“I hoped,” said Rachel, “to have begun with the year, but we are not forward enough, and indeed some of the expenses require a subscription in advance. A subscriber in advance will have the year’s numbers for ten shillings, instead of twelve; and I should be much obliged if you would distribute a few of these at Bath, and ask Bessie to do the same. I shall set her name down at the head of the list, as soon as she has qualified it for a decoy.”
“Are these printed at the F. U. E. E.?”
“No, we have not funds as yet. Mr. Mauleverer had them done at Bristol, where he has a large connexion as a lecturer, and expects to get many subscribers. I brought these down as soon as he had left them with me, in hopes that you would kindly distribute them at the wedding. And I wished,” added she to Ermine, “to ask you to contribute to our first number.”
“Thank you,” and the doubtful tone induced Rachel to encourage her diffidence.
“I know you write a great deal, and I am sure you must produce something worthy to see the light. I have no scruple in making the request, as I know Colonel Keith agrees with me that womanhood need not be an extinguisher for talent.”
“I am not afraid of him,” Ermine managed to say without more smile than Rachel took for gratification.
“Then if you would only entrust me with some of your fugitive reflections, I have no doubt that something might be made of them. A practised hand,” she added with a certain editorial dignity, “can always polish away any little roughnesses from inexperience.”
Ermine was choking with laughter at the savage pulls that Colin was inflicting on his moustache, and feeling silence no longer honest, she answered in an odd under tone, “I can’t plead inexperience.”
“No!” cried Rachel. “You have written; you have not published!”
“I was forced to do whatever brought grist to the mill,” said Ermine. “Indeed,” she added, with a look as if to ask pardon; “our secrets have been hardly fair towards you, but we made it a rule not to spoil our breadwinner’s trade by confessing my enormities.”