Now learning to read and write was wormwood to Mary Wells; but the prize was so great; she knew all about the Huntercombe estates, partly from her sister, partly from Bassett himself. (He must tell his wrongs even to this girl.) So she resolved to pursue matrimony, even on the severe condition of becoming a scholar. She set about it as follows: One day that she was doing Lady Bassett's hair she sighed several times. This was to attract the lady's attention, and it succeeded. “Is there anything the matter, Mary?” “No, my lady.” “I think there is.” “Well, my lady, I am in a little trouble; but it is my own people's fault for not sending of me to school. I might be married to-morrow if I could only read and write.” “And can you not?” “No, my lady.” “Dear me! I thought everybody could read and write nowadays.” “La, no, my lady! not half of them in our village.” “Your parents are much to blame, my poor girl. Well, but it is not too late. Now I think of it, there is an adult school in the village. Shall I arrange for you to go to it?” “Thank you, my lady. But then--” “Well?” “All my fellow-servants would have a laugh against me.” “The person you are engaged to, will he not instruct you?” “Oh, he have no time to teach me. Besides, I don't want him to know, either. But I won't be his wife to shame him.” (Another sigh.) “Mary,” said Lady Bassett, in the innocence of her heart, “you shall not be mortified, and you shall not lose a good marriage. I will try and teach you myself.” Mary was profuse in thanks. Lady Bassett received them rather coldly. She gave her a few minutes' instruction in her dressing-room every day; and Mary, who could not have done anything intellectual for half an hour at a stretch, gave her whole mind for those few minutes. She was quick, and learned very fast. In two months she could read a great deal more than she could understand, and could write slowly but very clearly. Now by this time Lady Bassett had become so interested in her pupil that she made her read letters and newspapers to her at those parts of the toilet when her services were not required. Mary Wells, though a great chatterbox, was the closest girl in England. Limpet never stuck to a rock as she could stick to a lie. She never said one word to Bassett about Lady Bassett's lessons. She kept strict silence till she could write a letter, and then she sent him a line to say she had learned to write for love of him, and she hoped he would keep his promise. Bassett's vanity was flattered by this. But, on reflection, he suspected it was a falsehood. He asked her suddenly, at their next meeting, who had written that note for her. “You shall see me write the fellow to it when you like,” was the reply. Bassett resolved to submit the matter to that test some day. At present, however, he took her word for it, and asked her who had taught her.