It was no use
crying. My lady encouraged her to anticipate that she would be very
tolerably happy at school. She was strong enough not to mind its
hardships; some girls suffered miserably from want of health, but she
had vigor and spirits to make the best of circumstances. Bessie was
flattered by this estimate of her pluck, but all the same she preferred
to avert her thoughts from the contemplation of the strange future that
was to begin in September. It was July now, and a respite was to be
given her until September.
Mr. John Short--his business done--returned to Norminster, and Mr.
Fairfax and Mr. Carnegie met. They were extremely distant in their
behavior. Mr. Carnegie refused to accept any compensation for the
charges Bessie had put him to, and made Mr. Fairfax wince at his
information that the child had earned her living twice over by her
helpfulness in his house. He did not mean to be unkind, but only to set
forth his dear little Bessie's virtues.
"She will never need to go a-begging, Bessie won't," said he. "She can
turn her hand to most things in a family. She has capital sense, and a
warm heart for those who can win it."
Mr. Fairfax bowed solemnly, as not appreciating this catalogue of homely
graces. The doctor looked very stern. He had subdued his mind to the
necessity, but he felt his loss in every fibre of his affections. No
one, except Bessie herself, half understood the sacrifice he was put
upon making, for he loved her as fondly as if she had been his very own;
and he knew that once divided from his household she never would be like
his own again.
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