She let her uncle Laurence know what had happened by letter, and on the
day fixed for the children to go home again she went with them, attended
by Mrs. Betts as before. Mr. Laurence Fairfax was half amused at the
method by which his father had evaded Bessie's bold attempt to rule him,
and his blossom of a wife was much too happy to care for the old
squire's perversity unless he cared; but they were both sorry for
Bessie.
"My grandfather lets me have everything but what I want," she said with
a tinge of rueful humor. "He surrounds me with every luxury, and denies
me the drink of cold water that I thirst for. I wish I could escape from
his tyranny. We were beginning to be friends, and this has undone it
all. A refusal would not have been half so unkind."
"There is nothing but time to trust to," said her uncle Laurence. "My
father's resentment is not active, but it lasts."
Bessie was quite alone that long evening, the last of the old year: at
Beechhurst or at Brook there was certainly a party. Nor had she any
intimation of the time of her grandfather's return beyond what Jonquil
had been able to give her a week ago. He had not written since he left,
and an accumulation of letters awaited him in his private room, Jonquil
having been unable to forward any for want of an address. The dull
routine of the house proceeded for three days more, and then the master
reappeared at luncheon without notice to anybody.
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