"Oh, Harry Musgrave was never impatient: he could always wait. I am
pleased that he has taken to his pen. And what a resource you must be to
each other in London, if only to tell your difficulties and
disappointments!"

"Oh yes, I am in all Musgrave's secrets, and he in mine," said Christie.
"A bachelor in chambers has not a superfluity of wants; he is short of
money now and then, but that is very much the case with all of us."

Bessie laughed carelessly. "Poor Harry!" said she, and recollected the
tragical and pathetic stories of the poets that they used to discuss,
and of which they used to think so differently. She did not reflect how
much temptation was implied in the words that told her Harry was short
of money now and then. A degree of hardship to begin with was nothing
more than all her heroes had encountered, and their biography had
commonly succeeded in showing that they were the better for it--unless,
indeed, they were so unlucky as to die of it--but Harry had far too much
force of character ever to suffer himself to be beaten; in all her
visions he was brave, steadfast, persistent, and triumphant. She said so
to Mr. Christie, adding that they had been like brother and sister when
they were children, and she felt as if she had a right to be interested
in whatever concerned him. Mr. Christie looked on the carpet and said,
"Yes, yes," he remembered what friends and comrades they were--almost
inseparable; and he had heard Harry say, not so very long ago, that he
wished Miss Fairfax was still at hand when his spirits flagged, for she
used to hearten him more than anybody else ever did. Bessie was too much
gratified by this reminiscence to think of asking what the
discouragements were that caused Harry to wish for her.

The next day Mrs. Chiverton's portrait was begun, and the artist was as
happy as the day was long. His temper was excellent unless he were
interrupted at his work, and this Mr. Chiverton took care should not
happen when he was at home. But one morning in his absence Mr. Gifford
called on business, and was so obstinate to take no denial that Mrs.
Chiverton permitted him to come and speak with her in the
picture-gallery, where she was giving the artist a sitting. Bessie
Fairfax, who had the tact never to be in the way, was there also,
turning over his portfolio of sketches (some sketches on the beach at
Yarmouth greatly interested her), but she looked up with curiosity when
the visitor entered, for