ie, with her faithful maid, took the much shorter
and easier journey to Slinfold Rectory, near Horsham, the home of her
sister Lucy, Mrs. Sutton.

She was sad and in very feeble health. All the future seemed dark and
uncertain; she could make no plans, she could not look forward. At such
a time the tender and loving care of Mr. and Mrs. Sutton were very
precious to her. Insensibly, almost unconsciously, she was helped by the
numerous children around her. Living in their midst she learnt to know
them intimately, and they cheered her and amused her. The little boys
had quaint ways and odd sayings, and they made her forget herself and
listen to them and wonder at them. The eldest girl, also a Lucy, had
always been a pet, and now became very dear to her. From Slinfold she
went to her sister Fanny, Mrs. Casson, at Torquay, and there found
another kind brother-in-law, another large family of nephews and nieces,
all ready to love and to wait upon the dear "Aunt Bessie." Four homes,
in all of which she was a welcome and honoured guest, were thus open to
her. Hitherto her time had been divided between London and Chichester.
She had not allowed herself the luxury of visits to married sisters, and
had only seen them and their children on the occasion of their visits to
the palace or London. Now she began to be intimate with them, to be
interested in the character and dispositions of the young people, and to
enjoy the family life of which one and all helped to make her feel she
was a member.

Meantime old and dear friends gathered around her and sought to comfort
and encourage her. She preserved many letters which she prized and had
found helpful. One of the first to speak was the Rev. H. Browne, who
held the living of Pevensey. He was one of the Bishop's chaplains, the
author of _Ordo Saeclorum_, a student of German theology, and, that which
most attracted Bessie, he was a very good reader, and at Chichester had
often read aloud Shakespere's plays to the _sisterhood_. Mr. Browne now
was the first to strike a note to which she could respond:

He rests from his labours and his works do follow him. Yours
remain. It is needless for me to say it, for you must all know it
better than I, he counted it among his mercies that a work had been
raised up for you, which when father and mother were gone would be
to you the work and the blessing of your life. He evidently
acknowledged this as God's calling to yo