She had wrought up her mind to expect a recall to England when
she was eighteen, and no recall had come. Harry Musgrave's inquiry when
she was to leave school brought a blush to her face. She was ashamed to
answer that she did not know.
"Lady Latimer should interfere for you," suggested Harry, who had not
received a lively impression of her lot.
Bessie's countenance cleared with a flash, and her thoughts were
instantly diverted to Fairfield and its gracious mistress--that bright
particular star of her childish imagination: "Oh, Harry, have you made
friends with Lady Latimer?" asked she.
"I have not been to her house, because she has never asked me since that
time I despised her commands, but we have a talk when we meet on the
road. Her ladyship loves all manner of information, and is good enough
to take an interest in my progress. I know she takes an interest in it,
because she recollects what I tell her--not like our ascetic parson, who
forgets whether I am at Balliol or Oriel, and whether I came out first
class or fourth in moderations."
"I wish I could meet Lady Latimer on the road or anywhere! Seeing you
makes me long to go home, Harry," said Bessie with a sigh. Harry
protested that she ought to go home, and promised that he would speak
about it--he would go to Fairfield immediately on his return to the
Forest, and beg Lady Latimer to intercede in her behalf. Bessie had a
doubt whether this was a judicious plan, but she did not say so.
Pages:
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163