An idea struck her when she saw Mrs. Betts unfolding her most sumptuous
dress--a rich white silk embroidered in black and silver for
mourning--evidently in the intention of adorning her to the highest.
"Oh, not that dress," she said. "I will wear my India muslin with black
ribbons."
"It is quite a set party, miss," remonstrated Mrs. Betts.
"No matter," said Bessie decisively. No, she would not triumph over dear
Harry with grand clothes.
When her young lady had spoken, Mrs. Betts knew that it was spending her
breath in vain to contradict; and Bessie went down to the drawing-room
with an air of inexpensive simplicity very becoming to her beauty, and
that need not alarm a poor gentleman who might have visions of her as a
wife. Lady Latimer instantly accused and convicted her of that intention
in it--in her private thoughts, that is. My lady herself was magnificent
in purple satin, and little Dora Meadows had put on her finest raiment;
but Bessie, with her wealth of fair hair and incomparable beauty of
coloring, still glowed the most; and she glowed with more than her
natural rose when Lady Latimer, after looking her up and down from head
to foot with extreme deliberation, turned away with a scorny face.
Bessie's eyes sparkled, and Mr. Logger, who saw all and saw nothing,
perceived that she could look scorny too.
Mr. Cecil Burleigh was pacing to and fro the conservatory into which a
glass door opened from the drawing-room.
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