Bessie was too much
gratified by this reminiscence to think of asking what the
discouragements were that caused Harry to wish for her.
The next day Mrs. Chiverton's portrait was begun, and the artist was as
happy as the day was long. His temper was excellent unless he were
interrupted at his work, and this Mr. Chiverton took care should not
happen when he was at home. But one morning in his absence Mr. Gifford
called on business, and was so obstinate to take no denial that Mrs.
Chiverton permitted him to come and speak with her in the
picture-gallery, where she was giving the artist a sitting. Bessie
Fairfax, who had the tact never to be in the way, was there also,
turning over his portfolio of sketches (some sketches on the beach at
Yarmouth greatly interested her), but she looked up with curiosity when
the visitor entered, for she knew his reputation.
He was a fat man of middle age, with a thin voice and jerky manner. "I
had Forbes yesterday, Mrs. Chiverton, to speak to me in your name," he
announced. "Do you know him for the officious fellow he is, for ever
meddling in other people's matters? For ten years he has pestered me
about Morte, which is no concern of mine."
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Gifford, it is very much your concern," Mrs.
Chiverton said with calm deliberation. "Eleven laborers, employed by
farmers on your estate, representing with their families over thirty
souls, live in hovels at Morte owned by you or your agent Blagg.
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