Her frame was fevered; the bed was fevered; and she arose and paced the room.  This state of mind would inevitably bring on bodily illness, possibly an attack of the brain.  She dreaded that; for there was no telling what she might reveal in her delirium.  Her temples were throbbing, her heart was beating, and she once more threw herself upon the bed, and pressed the pillow down upon her forehead.  There is no doubt that the news of Mr. Carlyle’s marriage helped greatly the excitement.  She did not pray to die, but she did wish that death might come to her.

What would have been the ending, it is impossible to say, but a strange turn in affairs came; one of those wonderful coincidences sometimes, but not often to be met with.  Mrs. Crosby appeared in Madame Vine’s room after breakfast, and gave her an account of Helena’s projected marriage.  She then apologized, the real object of her visit, for dispensing so summarily with madame’s services, but had reason to hope that she could introduce her to another situation.  Would madame have any objection to take one in England?  Madame was upon the point of replying that she should not choose to enter one in England, when Mrs. Crosby stopped her, saying that she would call in Mrs. Latimer, who could tell her about it better than she could.

Mrs. Latimer came in, all eagerness and volubility.  “Ah, my dear madame,” she exclaimed, “you would be fortunate indeed if you were to get into this family.  The nicest people they are; he so liked and respected; she so pretty and engaging.  A most desirable situation, too, treated as a lady, and all things comfortable.  There’s only one pupil, a girl; one of the little boys, I believe, goes in for an hour or two, but that’s not much; and the salary’s seventy guineas.  They are friends of mine; the Carlyles; such a beautiful place they live at—­East Lynne.”

The Carlyles!  East Lynne!  Go governess there?  Lady Isabel’s breath was taken away.

“They are parting with their governess,” continued Mrs. Latimer, “and when I was there, a day or two before I started on my tour to Germany, Mrs. Carlyle said to me, ’I suppose you could not pick us up a desirable governess for Lucy; one who is mistress of French and German.’  She spoke in a half joking tone, but I feel sure that were I to write word I had found one desirable, it would give her pleasure.  Now, Mrs. Crosby tells me your French is quite that of a native, Madame Vine, that you read and speak German well, and that your musical abilities are excellent.  I think you would be just the one to suit; and I have no doubt I could get you the situation.  What do you say?”

What could she say?  Her brain was in a whirl.

“I am anxious to find you one if I can,” put in Mrs. Crosby.  “We have been much pleased with you, and I should like you to be desirably placed.  As Mrs. Latimer is so kind as to interest herself, it appears to me an opportunity that should not be missed.”