It appeared that Bessie daily read the psalms and lessons to grandmamma, followed up by a sermon. Then, with her wonderful eyes, Mrs. Merrifield read the newspaper from end to end, which lasted her till luncheon, then came a drive in the brougham, followed by a rest in her own room, dinner, and then Bessie read her to sleep with a book of travels or biography, of the old book-club class of her youth. Her principles were against novels, and the tale she viewed as only fit for children. Lady Merrifield could not help thinking what a dull life it must be for Bessie, a woman full of natural gifts and of great powers of enjoyment, accustomed to a country home and a large family, and she said something of the kind. ‘I did not like it at first,’ said Bessie, ‘but I have plenty of occupations now, besides all these companions that I’ve made for myself, or that came to me, for I think they come of themselves.’ ‘But what time have you to yourself?’ ‘Grandmamma does not want me till half-past ten in the morning, except for a little visit. And she does not mind my writing letters while she is reading the paper, provided I am ready to answer anything remarkable. I am quite the family newsmonger! Then there’s always from four to half-past six when I can go out if I like. There’s a dear old governess of ours living not far off, and we have nice little expeditions together. And you know it is nice to be at the family headquarters in London, and have every one dropping in.’ ‘Oh dear! how good you are to like going on like that,’ said Gillian, who had come up while this was passing; ‘I should eat my heart out; you must be made up of contentment.’ Elizabeth held up her hand in warning lest her grandmother should be wakened, but she laughed and said, ‘My brothers would tell you I used to be Pipy Bet. But that dear old governess. Miss Fosbrook, was the making of me, and taught me how to be jolly like Mark Tapley among the rattlesnakes,’ she finished, looking drolly up to Gillian. ‘And, Gill, you don’t know what Bessie has made her companions instead of the rattlesnakes,’ said Lady Merrifield. ‘What do you think of “Kate’s Jewel?”’ Gillian’s astonishment and rapture actually woke grandmamma; not that she made much noise, but there was a disturbing force about her excitement; and the subject had to be abandoned. As the great secret might be shared with Dolores, though not with the younger ones, whose discretion could not be depended upon, Gillian could enter upon it the more freely, though she was rather disappointed that an author was not such an extraordinary sight to Dolly as to herself. But it was charming to both that Bessie let them look at the proofs of the story she was publishing in a magazine; and allowed them as well as mamma, to read the manuscript of the tale, romance, or novel, whichever it was to be called, on which she wished for her aunt’s opinion.