I shall be very glad to try if you think I have any
fitness for the place."
"I do," and Mrs. Carrol's face softened as she spoke, for something
in Christie's words or manner seemed to please her. Then slowly, as
if the task was a hard one, she added:
"My daughter has been very ill and is still weak and nervous. I must
hint to you that the loss of one very dear to her was the cause of
the illness and the melancholy which now oppresses her. Therefore we
must avoid any thing that can suggest or recall this trouble. She
cares for nothing as yet, will see no one, and prefers to live
alone. She is still so feeble this is but natural; yet solitude is
bad for her, and her physician thinks that a new face might rouse
her, and the society of one in no way connected with the painful
past might interest and do her good. You see it is a little
difficult to find just what we want, for a young companion is best,
yet must be discreet and firm, as few young people are."
Fancying from Mrs. Carrol's manner that Miss Tudor had said more in
her favor than had been repeated to her, Christie in a few
plain-words told her little story, resolving to have no concealments
here, and feeling that perhaps her experiences might have given her
more firmness and discretion than many women of her age possessed.
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