Miss Bessy was, as I knew, only about eighteen, but she looked older.  Dark hair, dark eyes, a tall, firm figure, a good, sensible face, with a serene expression, not in the least disturbed by what I had been thinking must be such awful circumstances as a first introduction to my lady, who had so disapproved of her very existence:  those are the clearest impressions I remember of my first interview with Miss Bessy.  She seemed to observe us all, in her quiet manner, quite as much as I did her; but she spoke very little; occupied herself, indeed, as my lady had planned, with looking over the great books of engravings.  I think I must have (foolishly) intended to make her feel at her ease, by my patronage; but she was seated far away from my sofa, in order to command the light, and really seemed so unconcerned at her unwonted circumstances, that she did not need my countenance or kindness.  One thing I did like—­her watchful look at Miss Galindo from time to time:  it showed that her thoughts and sympathy were ever at Miss Galindo’s service, as indeed they well might be.  When Miss Bessy spoke, her voice was full and clear, and what she said, to the purpose, though there was a slight provincial accent in her way of speaking.  After a while, my lady set us two to play at chess, a game which I had lately learnt at Mr. Gray’s suggestion.  Still we did not talk much together, though we were becoming attracted towards each other, I fancy.

“You will play well,” said she.  “You have only learnt about six months, have you?  And yet you can nearly beat me, who have been at it as many years.”

“I began to learn last November.  I remember Mr. Gray’s bringing me ‘Philidor on Chess,’ one very foggy, dismal day.”

What made her look up so suddenly, with bright inquiry in her eyes?  What made her silent for a moment as if in thought, and then go on with something, I know not what, in quite an altered tone?

My lady and Miss Galindo went on talking, while I sat thinking.  I heard Captain James’s name mentioned pretty frequently; and at last my lady put down her work, and said, almost with tears in her eyes: 

“I could not—­I cannot believe it.  He must be aware she is a schismatic; a baker’s daughter; and he is a gentleman by virtue and feeling, as well as by his profession, though his manners may be at times a little rough.  My dear Miss Galindo, what will this world come to?”

Miss Galindo might possibly be aware of her own share in bringing the world to the pass which now dismayed my lady,—­for of course, though all was now over and forgiven, yet Miss, Bessy’s being received into a respectable maiden lady’s house, was one of the portents as to the world’s future which alarmed her ladyship; and Miss Galindo knew this,—­but, at any rate, she had too lately been forgiven herself not to plead for mercy for the next offender against my lady’s delicate sense of fitness and propriety,—­so she replied: