distinction. This was young Musgrave's creed at three-and-twenty. He
expounded it to Bessie, who heard him with a puzzled perception of
something left out. Harry, like many another man at the beginning of
life, reckoned without the unforeseen.

The sum of Bessie's experiences, adventures, opinions was not long. Her
mind had not matured at school as it would have done in the practical
education of home. She had acquired a graceful carriage and propriety of
behavior, and she had learned a little more history, with a few dates
and other things that are written in books; but of current literature
and current events, great or small, she had learned nothing. For
seclusion a French school is like a convent. She had a sense of humor
and a sense of justice--qualities not too common in the sex; and she had
a few liberal notions, the seed of which had been sown during her rides
with the doctor. They would probably outlive her memory for the shadowy
regions of chronology. Then she had a clear and strong sentiment with
regard to the oppressive manner in which her grandfather had exercised
his right and power over her, which gave a tincture to her social views
not the most amiable. She was confessedly happier with Madame Fournier
at Bayeux than she had any anticipation of being at Abbotsmead, but she
had nevertheless a feeling of injury in being kept in a state of
pupilage. She had wrought up her mind to expect a recall to England when
she was eighteen, and no recall had come. Harry Musgrave's inquiry when
she was to leave school brought a blush to her face. She was ashamed to
answer that she did not know.

"Lady Latimer should interfere for you," suggested Harry, who had not
received a lively impression of her lot.

Bessie's countenance cleared with a flash, and her thoughts were