aste and excitement. She meant neither to defend herself nor
to complain, but her voice imported a little pathos and tragedy into the
scene. Young Musgrave instantly repented and offered atonement.
"Besides," Bessie rather inconsequently ran on, "I am very fond of Lady
Latimer; she has nobody of her own, so she tries to make a family in the
world at large."

"All right, Bessie--then she shall adopt you. Only don't be cross,
little goosey. Let us go into the garden." Young Musgrave made such a
burlesque of his remorse that Bessie, wounded but skin-deep, was fain to
laugh too and be friends again. And thereupon they went forth together
into the bosky old garden.

What a pleasant wilderness that old garden was, even in its neglected
beauty! Whoever planted it loved open spaces, turf, and trees of foreign
race; for there were some rare cedars, full-grown, straight, and
stately, with feathered branches sweeping the grass, and strange shrubs
that were masses of blossom and fountains of sweet odors. The
flower-borders had run to waste; only a few impoverished roses tossed
their blushing fragrance into the air, and a few low-growing,
old-fashioned things made shift to live amongst the weeds. But the
prettiest bit of all was the verdant natural slope, below which ran the
brook that gave the village and the manor their names. The Forest is not
a land of merry running waters, but little tranquil streams meander
hither and thither, making cool its shades. Three superb beeches laved
their silken leaves in the shallow flood, and amongst their roots were
rustic seats all sheltered from sun and wind. Here had Harry Musgrave
and Bessie Fairfax sat many a summer afternoon, their heads over one
poetry-book, reading, whispering, drawing--lovers in a way, though they
never talked of love.

"Shall we two ever walk together in this garden again, Harry?" said
Bessie, breaking a sentimental silence with a sigh as she gazed at the
sun-dimmed horizon.

"Many a time, I hope. I'll tell you my ambition." Young Musgrave spoke
with vivacity; his eyes sparkled. "Listen, Bessie, and don't be
astonished. I mean some day to buy Brook, and come to live here. That is
my ambition."

Bessie was overawed. To buy Brook was a project too vast for her
imagination. The traditions of its ancient glories still hung about it,
and the proprietor, even in his poverty, was a power in the country.
Harry proceeded with the confession of his day-dreams: "I shall pull