"
"Oh, Harry Musgrave was never impatient: he could always wait. I am
pleased that he has taken to his pen. And what a resource you must be to
each other in London, if only to tell your difficulties and
disappointments!"
"Oh yes, I am in all Musgrave's secrets, and he in mine," said Christie.
"A bachelor in chambers has not a superfluity of wants; he is short of
money now and then, but that is very much the case with all of us."
Bessie laughed carelessly. "Poor Harry!" said she, and recollected the
tragical and pathetic stories of the poets that they used to discuss,
and of which they used to think so differently. She did not reflect how
much temptation was implied in the words that told her Harry was short
of money now and then. A degree of hardship to begin with was nothing
more than all her heroes had encountered, and their biography had
commonly succeeded in showing that they were the better for it--unless,
indeed, they were so unlucky as to die of it--but Harry had far too much
force of character ever to suffer himself to be beaten; in all her
visions he was brave, steadfast, persistent, and triumphant. She said so
to Mr. Christie, adding that they had been like brother and sister when
they were children, and she felt as if she had a right to be interested
in whatever concerned him. Mr. Christie looked on the carpet and said,
"Yes, yes," he remembered what friends and comrades they were--almost
inseparable; and he had heard Harry say, not so very long ago, that he
wished Miss Fairfax was still at hand when his spirits flagged, for she
used to hearten him more than anybody else ever did.
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