due—­she was, indeed, helpful and patronizing to the humble—­but for a small Mordecai like Janey Fricker she had nothing but insolence and rough words.  Janey would not bow down to her; in her own way Janey was as stubborn and proud as her tyrant, but she was not as strong.  She was a waif by herself, and Mademoiselle Ada was obeyed, served, and honored by a large following of admirers.  Bessie Fairfax did not feel drawn to enroll herself amongst them, and before the classes had been a month assembled she had rejoiced the heart of the master-mariner’s little daughter with many warm, affectionate assurances that there was no one else in all the school that she loved so well as herself.

By degrees, and very quick degrees, Bessie’s tremors for how she should succeed at school wore off.  What fantastic distresses she would have been saved if she had known beforehand that she possessed a gift of beauty, more precious in the sight of girls than the first place in the first class, than the utmost eloquence of tongues, and the most brilliant execution on the piano!  It came early to be disputed whether Mademoiselle Ada or Mademoiselle Bessie was the belle des belles; and Bessie, too, soon had her court of devoted partisans, who extolled her fair roseate complexion, blue eyes, and golden hair as lovelier far than Mademoiselle Ada’s cold, severe perfection of feature.  Bessie took their praises very coolly, and learnt her verbs, wrote her dictees, and labored at her themes with the solid perseverance of a girl who has her charms to acquire.  The Miss Hiloes were not unwilling to be on good terms with her, but that, she told them, was impossible while they were so ostentatiously discourteous to her friend, Janey Fricker.  When to her armor of beauty Bessie added the weapon of fearless, incisive speech, the risk of affronts was much abated.  Mr. Carnegie had prophesied wisely when he said for his wife’s consolation that character tells more in the long-run than talking French or playing on the piano.  Her companions might like Bessie Fairfax, or they might let liking alone, but very few would venture a second time on ill-natured demonstrations either towards herself or towards any one she protected.

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