He
wrote that he had laid up the Foam in one of the Danish ports to be
ready for the breaking up of the winter and a further exploration of the
Baltic coasts, and that he was just starting on a journey into
Russia--judging that the beauty of the North is in perfection during the
season of ice and snow.
"Just like one of Fred's whims!" said his father discontentedly. "As if
he could not have come into Woldshire and have enjoyed the hunting!
Nobody enjoyed it more than he did formerly."
He did not come, however, and Bessie was not astonished. Under other
circumstances Abbotsmead might have been a cheerful house, but it seemed
as if no one cared to make it cheerful now: if the days got over
tranquilly, that was enough. The squire and his granddaughter dined
alone day after day, Mr. Forbes relieved their monotony on Sundays, and
occasionally Mr. Oliver Smith came for a night. Society was a toil to
Mr. Fairfax. He did not find his house dull, and would have been
surprised to know that Elizabeth did. What could she want that she had
not? She had Janey to ride, and Joss, a companionable dog, to walk with;
she had her carriage, and could drive to Hartwell as often as she
pleased; and at her gates she had bright little Mrs. Stokes for company
and excellent Mrs. Forbes for counsel. Still, Bessie felt life stagnant
around her. She could not be interested in anything here without an
effort. The secret of it was her hankering after the Forest, and partly
also her longing for those children.
Pages:
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399