Bessie took care, when complying with the girls’ entreaty, that she would tell them all she had written; to observe that, she thought ‘Clare’ a very foolish book indeed, and that she wished heartily she had never written it. Gillian asked why she had done it? ‘Oh,’ said Dolores, ‘things aren’t interesting unless something horrid happens, or some one is frightened, or very miserable.’ ‘I like things best just and exactly as they really are--or were,’ said Gillian. ‘The question between sensation and character,’ said Bessie to her aunt. ‘I suppose that, on the whole, it is the few who are palpably affected by the mass of fiction in the world; but that it is needful to take good care that those few gather at least no harm from one’s work--to be faithful in it, in fact, like other things.’ And there was no doubt that Bessie had been faithful in her work ever since she had realized her vocation. Her lending library books, written with a purpose, were excellent, and were already so much valued by Miss Hacket, that Gillian thought how once she should have felt it a privation not to be allowed to tell her whence they came; but to her surprise on the Sunday, instead of the constraint with which of late she had been treated at tea-time, the eager inquiry was made whether this was really the authoress, Miss Merrifield? Secrets are not kept as well as people think. The Hackets’ married sister was a neighbour of Bessie’s married sister, and through these ladies it had just come round, not only who was the author of ‘Charlie’s Whistle,’ etc., but that she wrote in the ---- Magazine, and was in the neighbourhood. All offences seemed to be forgotten in the burning desire for an introduction to this marvel of success. Constance had made the most of her opportunities in gazing at church; but if she called, would she be introduced? ‘Of course,’ said Gillian, ‘if my cousin is in the room.’ She spoke rather coldly and gravely, and Miss Hacket exclaimed-- ‘I know we have been a little remiss, my dear, I hope Lady Merrifield was not offended.’ ‘Mamma is never offended,’ said Gillian--‘but, I do think, and so would she and all of us, that if Constance comes, she ought to treat Dolores Mohun--as--as usual.’ The two sisters were silent, perhaps from sheer amazement at this outbreak of Gillian’s, who had never seemed particularly fond of her cousin. Gillian was quite as much surprised at herself, but something seemed to drive her on, with flaming cheeks. ‘Dolores is half broken-hearted about it all. She did not thoroughly know how wrong it was; and it does make her miserable that the one who went along with her in it should turn against her, and cut her and all.’ ‘Connie never meant to keep it up, I’m sure,’ said Miss Hacket; ‘but she was very much hurt.’ ‘So was Dolly,’ said Gillian. ‘Is she so fond of me?’ said Constance, in a softened tone. ‘She was,’ replied Gillian.