Such was Bowles, Bessy's best friend in Wilts.

Bowood to Tom was centre of his scheme of things; he was always there
on some pretext or other; or he would dine and sleep at Bowles's or at
Lacock Abbey, or spend days in Bath, or a week in London. It is true
that half his talent and more than half his fame were social: these
things were the bread as well as the butter of life to him. But here
is Bessy meantime:

"... Came home and found my dearest Bessy very tired after her
walk from church. She has been receiving the Sacrament,
and never did a purer heart.... In the note she wrote me to
Bowles's the day before, she said, 'I am sorry I am not to see
you before I go to church.'"

Tom had sensibility, not a doubt of it; but it seems to me that she
had something better.

Here again, on the 16th October, "My dear Bessy planting some roots
Miss Hughes has brought her, looking for a place to put a root of pink
hepatica in, where (as she said) 'I might best see them in my walk.'"
Yes, he had sensibility; but she had imagination. A little Tom was
born a week after that. She took it badly, as she did most of her
labours, and was in bed a month. On the 18th November she went out for
the first time after the event--"the day delightful." She "went round
to all her flower-beds to examine their state, for she has every
little leaf in the garden by heart." Tom himself had been much moved
by the birth of his first boy. He was called up at 11.30, sent for
the midwife, was upset, walked about half the night, thanked God--"the