The Merry Order of St. Bridget: Personal Account of the Use of the Rod

I am sure you must have wondered what has become of me in all these years (three, isn't it?) since we met at Lord E-'s place. Perhaps you won't care to hear from me again, and will fancy I have forgotten our old friendship; indeed, my dear, it is not so, but I've been knocking about a bit, and seen the world. I've been in Paris two years in two different places, and learned as much in that time as many folks do in a lifetime. Cooped up as you are in a humdrum sort of place, with one old lady, you can have no idea of what goes on in livelier households. In my last place I was one of six lady's maids, all with nothing to do but to attend to some separate part of our lady's toilet. I entered her service from that of a grave austere woman with no ideas of colour beyond brown and grey, and a tremendous church-goer, so you may imagine what a change it was. I soon wearied of that place, you may be sure, and was glad when the Marquise St. Valery took me into her service. The Marquis was immensely proud and very poor, but he bestowed his titles and position upon a banker's daughter, whose wealth was said to be fabulous.