"
"I have not finished reading Harry's article yet: please let me take
it," said Bessie, coming forward.
"'Harry's article'? What do you mean?" demanded Lady Latimer with
austerity: "'Mr. Harry Musgrave' would sound more becoming."
"I forgot to tell you: the paper you and Mr. Logger were discussing the
first evening I was here was written by Mr. Harry Musgrave," said Bessie
demurely, but not without pride.
"Oh, indeed! The crudeness Mr. Logger remarked in it is accounted for,
then," said my lady, and Bessie's triumph was abated. Also my lady
carried off the review, and she saw it no more.
"It is only Aunt Olympia's way," whispered Dora to comfort her. "It
will go off. She is very fond of you, but you must know you are
dreadfully provoking. I wonder how you dare?"
"And is not _she_ dreadfully provoking?" rejoined Bessie, and began to
laugh. "But I am too happy to be intimidated. She will forgive me--if
not to-day, then to-morrow, or if not to-morrow, then the day after; or
I can have patience longer. But I will _not_ be ruled by her--_never_!"
CHAPTER XLIII.
_BETWEEN THEMSELVES._
It was on this day, when Bessie Fairfax's happiness primed her with
courage to resist my lady's imperious will, that Harry Musgrave learnt
for a certainty he had a rival. The rector was his informant. Mr. Wiley
overtook Harry sauntering in the Forest, and asked him how he did,
adding that he regretted to hear from his mother that there was a doubt
of his being able to continue his law-studies in London, and reminding
him of his own unheeded warnings against his ambition to rise in the
world.
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