Arthurine had brought home all prizes, all distinctions at the High School, but—­here was the only disappointment of her life—­a low fever had prevented her trying for a scholarship at Girton.  In consideration, however, of her great abilities and high qualities, as well as out of the great kindness of the committee, she had been made an assistant to one of the class mistresses, and had worked on with her own studies, till the wonderful tidings came of the inheritance that had fallen to her quite unexpectedly; for since her husband’s death Mrs. Arthuret had known nothing of his family, and while he was alive there were too many between him and the succession for the chance to occur to him as possible.  The relief and blessing were more than the good lady could utter.  All things are comparative, and to one whose assured income had been 70 pounds a year, 800 pounds was unbounded wealth; to one who had spent her life in schoolrooms and lodgings, the Gap was a lordly demesne.

‘And what do you think was the first thing my sweet child said?’ added Mrs. Arthuret, with her eyes glittering through tears.  ’Mammy, you shall never hear the scales again, and you shall have the best Mocha coffee every day of your life.’

Bessie felt that after this she must like the sweet child, though sweetness did not seem to her the predominant feature in Arthurine.

After the pathos to which she had listened there was somewhat of a comedy to come, for the ladies had spent the autumn abroad, and had seen and enjoyed much.  ’It was a perfect feast to see how Arthurine entered into it all,’ said the mother.  ’She was never at a loss, and explained it all to me.  Besides, perhaps you have seen her article?’

‘I beg your pardon.’

’Her article in the Kensington.  It attracted a great deal of attention, and she has had many compliments.’

‘Oh! the Kensington magazine,’ said Mrs. Merrifield, rather uneasily, for she was as anxious that Bessie should not be suspected of writing in the said periodical as the other mother was that Arthurine should have the fame of her contributions.

‘Do you take it?’ asked Mrs. Arthuret, ’for we should be very glad to lend it to you.’

A whole pile was on the table, and Mrs. Merrifield looked at them with feeble thanks and an odd sort of conscious dread, though she could with perfect truth have denied either ‘taking it’ or reading it.

Bessie came to her relief.  ‘Thank you,’ she said; ’we do; some of us have it.  Is your daughter’s article signed A. A., and doesn’t it describe a boarding-house on the Italian lakes?  I thought it very clever and amusing.’

Mrs. Arthuret’s face lighted up.  ‘Oh yes, my dear,’ slipped out in her delight.  ’And do you know, it all came of her letter to one of the High School ladies, who is sister to the sub-editor, such a clever, superior girl!  She read it to the headmistress and all, and they agreed that it was too good to be lost, and Arthurine copied it out and added to it, and he—­Mr. Jarrett—­said it was just what he wanted—­so full of information and liveliness—­and she is writing some more for him.’