Mr. Cecil Burleigh laughed and said, "Miss Fairfax is right. She will
wear my colors and I will adopt her logic, and, ostrich-like, refuse to
see the perils that threaten me."
"No, no," remonstrated Bessie casting off her shy reserve under
encouragement. "So far from hiding your face, you must make it familiar
in every street in Norminster. You must seek if you would find, and ask
if you would have. I would. I should hate to be beaten by my own
neglect, worse than by my rival."
Mr. Fairfax was electrified at this brusque assertion of her sentiments
by his granddaughter. Her audacity seemed at least equal to her shyness.
"Very good advice, Elizabeth; make him follow it," said he dryly.
"We will give him no rest when we have him at Brentwood," added Miss
Burleigh. "But though he is so cool about it, I believe he is dreadfully
in earnest. Are you not, Cecil?"
"I will not be beaten by my own neglect," was his rejoinder, with a
glance at Bessie, blushing beautifully.
They did not relapse into constraint any more that day. There was no
addition to the company at dinner, and the evening being genially warm,
they enjoyed it in the garden. Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Miss Fairfax even
strolled as far as the ruins in the park, and on the way he enlightened
her respecting some of his opinions, tastes, and prejudices. She heard
him attentively, and found him very instructive. His clever conversation
was a compliment to which, as a bright girl, she was not insensible.
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