"
"She has not seen you since you left London, Harry. I should like you to
meet; then I think she might forgive us," said Bessie, with a wistful
regret. Sometimes she was highly indignant with my lady, but in the
depths of her heart there was always a fund of affection, admiration,
and respect for the idol of her childish days.
The morning but one after this Bessie's anxious desire that my lady and
her dear Harry should meet was unexpectedly gratified. It was about
halfway towards noon when she was considering whether or no she could
with peace and propriety bring forward her wish to go again to Brook,
when Lady Latimer hurried down from her sanctum, which overlooked the
drive, saying, "Elizabeth, here is young Mr. Musgrave on horseback; run
and bid him come in and rest. He is giving some message to Roberts and
going away."
"Oh, please ask him yourself," said Bessie, but at the same moment she
hastened out to the door.
It was a sultry, oppressive morning, and Harry looked languid and
ill--more ill than Bessie had ever seen him look. She felt inexpressibly
shocked and pained, and he smiled as if to relieve her, while he held
out a letter that he had been on the point of entrusting to Roberts:
"From that excellent fellow, Christie. Your independent criticism has
opened his eyes to the beauties of my story, and he declares that he
shall claim the landscape bits himself."
Lady Latimer advanced with a pale, grave face, and invited the young man
to dismount.
Pages:
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538