'Oh! dear Mrs. Merrifield, I am so grieved, and so is Arthurine. We were told that the Admiral was so excessively angry, and he is so kind. I could not bear for him to think Arthurine meant anything personal.'
'Indeed,' said Mrs. Merrifield, rather astonished.
'But is he so very angry?-for it is all a mistake.'
'He laughs, and so does Bessie,' said the mother.
'Laughs! Does he? But I do assure you Arthurine never meant any place in particular; she only intended to describe the way things go on in country districts, don't you understand? She was talking one day at the Myttons, and they were all so much amused that they wanted her to write it down. She read it one evening when they were with us, and they declared it was too good not to be published-and almost before she knew it, Fred Mytton's literary friend got hold of it and took it to the agency of this paper. But indeed, indeed, she never thought of its being considered personal, and is as vexed as possible at the way in which it has been taken up. She has every feeling about your kindness to us, and she was so shocked when Pansy Mytton told us that the Admiral was furious.'
'Whoever told Miss Mytton so made a great mistake. The Admiral only is-is-amused-as you know gentlemen will be at young girls' little-little scrapes,' returned Mrs. Merrifield, longing to say 'impertinences,' but refraining, and scarcely believing what nevertheless was true, that Arthurine did not know how personal she had been, although her mother said it all over again twice. Bessie, however, did believe it, from experience of resemblances where she had never intended direct portraiture; and when there was a somewhat earnest invitation to a garden party at the Gap, the Merrifields not only accepted for themselves, but persuaded as many of their neighbours as they could to countenance the poor girl. 'There is something solid at the bottom in spite of all the effervescence,' said Bessie.
It was late in the year for a garden party, being on the 2d of October, but weather and other matters had caused delays, and the Indian summer had begun with warm sun and exquisite tints. 'What would not the maple and the liquid amber have been by this time,' thought the sisters, 'if they had been spared.' Some of the petite noblesse, however, repented of their condescension when they saw how little it was appreciated. Mrs. Arthuret, indeed, was making herself the best hostess that a lady who had served no apprenticeship could be to all alike, but Arthurine or 'Atty,' as Daisy and Pansy were heard shouting to her-all in white flannels, a man all but the petticoats-seemed to be absorbed in a little court of the second-rate people of Bonchamp, some whom, as Mrs. Greville and Lady Smithson agreed, they had never expected to meet. She was laughing and talking eagerly, and by and by ran up to Bessie, exclaiming in a patronising tone-
'Oh! my dear Miss Bessie, let me introduce you to Mr. Foxholm-such a clever literary man. He knows everybody-all about everybody and everything. It would be such an advantage! And he has actually made me give him my autograph! Only think of that!'
Bessie thought of her own good luck in being anonymous, but did not express it, only saying, 'Autograph-hunters are a great nuisance. I know several people who find them so.'
'Yes, he said it was one of the penalties of fame that one must submit to,' returned Miss Arthuret, with a delighted laugh of consciousness.
Bessie rejoiced that none of her own people were near to see the patronising manner in which Arthurine introduced her to Mr. Foxholm, a heavily-bearded man, whose eyes she did not at all like, and who began by telling her that he felt as if he had crossed the Rubicon, and entering an Arcadia, had found a Parnassus.
Bessie looked to see whether the highly-educated young lady detected the malaprop for the Helicon, but Arthurine was either too well-bred or too much exalted to notice either small slips, or even bad taste, and she stood smiling and blushing complacently. However, just then Susan hurried up. 'Bessie, you are wanted. Here's a card. The gentleman sent it in, and papa asked me to find you.'
Bessie opened her eyes. The card belonged to the editor of one of the most noted magazines of the day, but one whose principles she did not entirely approve. What could be coming?
Her father was waiting for her.
'Well, Miss Bessie,' he said, laughing, 'Jane said the gentleman was very urgent in wanting to know when you would be in. An offer, eh?'
'Perhaps it is an offer, but not of that sort,' said Bessie, and she explained what the unliterary Admiral had not understood. He answered with a whistle.
'Shall you do it, Bessie?'
'I think not,' she said quietly.
The editor was found waiting for her, with many apologies for bringing her home, and the Admiral was so delighted with his agreeableness as hardly to be able to tear himself away to bring home his wife.
The offer was, as Bessie expected, of excellent terms for a serial story-terms that proved to her what was her own value, and in which she saw education for her sister Anne's eldest boy.
'Of course, there would be a certain adaptation to our readers.'
She knew what that meant, and there was that in her face which drew forth the assurance.
'Of course nothing you would not wish to say would be required, but it would be better not to press certain subjects.'
'I understand,' said Bessie. 'I doubt-'
'Perhaps you will think it over.'
Bessie's first thought was, 'If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, then let my right hand forget her cunning.' That had been the inward motto of her life. Her second was, 'Little Sam! David's mission room!' There was no necessity to answer at once, and she knew the periodical rather by report than by reading, so she accepted the two numbers that were left with her, and promised to reply in a week. It was a question on which to take counsel with her father, and with her own higher conscience and heavenly Guide.
The Admiral, though not much given to reading for its own sake, and perhaps inclined to think ephemeral literature the more trifling because his little daughter was a great light there, was anything but a dull man, and had an excellent judgment. So Bessie, with all the comfort of a woman still with a wise father's head over her, decided to commit the matter to him. He was somewhat disappointed at finding her agreeable guest gone, and wished that dinner and bed had been offered.
Mrs. Merrifield and Susan were still a good deal excited about Arthurine's complimentary friend, who they said seemed to belong to Fred Mytton, of whom some of the ladies had been telling most unpleasant reports, and there was much lamentation over the set into which their young neighbour had thrown herself.
'Such a dress too!' sighed Mrs. Merrifield.
'And her headmistress has just arrived,' said Susan, 'to make her worse than ever!'
'How comes a headmistress to be running about the country at this time of year?' asked Bessie.
'She has been very ill,' said Mrs. Merrifield, 'and they wrote to her to come down as soon as she could move. There was a telegram this morning, and she drove up in the midst of the party, and was taken to her room at once to rest. That was the reason Miss Arthuret was away so long. I thought it nice in her.'
'Perhaps she will do good,' said Bessie.
Dinner was just over, and the Admiral had settled down with his shaded lamp to read and judge of the article that Bessie had given him as a specimen, when in came the message, 'Mrs. Rudden wishes to speak to you, sir.'
Mrs. Rudden was the prosperous widow who continued the business in the village shop, conjointly with the little farm belonging to the Gap property. She was a shrewd woman, had been able to do very well by her family, and was much esteemed, paying a rent which was a considerable item in the Gap means. The ladies wondered together at the summons. Susan hoped 'that girl' did not want to evict her, and Bessie suggested that a co-operative store was a more probable peril. Presently the Admiral came back. 'Do any of you know Miss Arthuret's writing?' he said.