“Saint who?”
“The late Mrs. L.”
“Oh, Mrs. Lovel:—yes. What an odd person you are! I did not understand whom you meant,” says Elizabeth the downright.
“Not a good temper, I should think? She and Fred fought?”
“He never fought.”
“I think a little bird has told me that she was not averse to the admiration of our sex?”
“I don’t speak ill of my friends, Mr. Batchelor!” replies Elizabeth the prudent.
“You must have difficult work with the two old ladies at Shrublands?”
Bessy shrugs her shoulders. “A little management is necessary in all families,” she says. “The ladies are naturally a little jealous one of the other; but they are both of them not unkind to me in the main; and I have to bear no more than other women in my situation. It was not all pleasure at Saint Boniface, Mr. Batchelor, with my uncle and aunt. I suppose all governesses have their difficulties; and I must get over mine as best I can, and be thankful for the liberal salary which your kindness procured for me, and which enables me to help my poor mother and my brothers and sisters.”