Bessie's position in the community was established when the tug of work
began. Her health and complexion triumphed over the coarse, hard fare;
her habits of industry made application easy; but the dulness and
monotony were sickening to her, the routine and confinement were hateful
yoke and bondage. Saving one march on Sunday to the Temple under Miss
Foster's escort, she went nowhere beyond the garden for weeks together.
Both French and English girls were in the same case, unless some friend
residing in the town or visiting it obtained leave to take them out. And
nobody came for Bessie. That she should go home to Beechhurst for a
Christmas holiday she had taken for granted; and while abiding the
narrow discipline, and toiling at her unaccustomed tasks with
conscientious diligence, that flattering anticipation made sunshine in
the distance. Every falling leaf, every chill breath of advancing
winter, brought it nearer. Janey and she used to talk of it half their
recreation-time--by the stagnant, weedy fountain in the garden at noon,
and in the twilight windows of the _classe_, when thoughts of the absent
are sweetest. For the Petrel had not come into port at Caen since the
autumn, and Janey was still left at school in daily expectation and
uncertainty.

"I am only sorry, Janey, that you are not sure of going home too," said
Bessie, one day, commiserating her.

"If I am not sailing with father I would rather be here. _I_ am not so
lonely since you came," responded Janey.

Then Bessie dilated on the pleasantness of the doctor's house, the
excellent kindness of her father and mother, the goodness of the boys,
the rejoicing there would be at her return, both amongst friends at
Beechhurst and friends at Brook. Each day, after she had indulged her