at Ryde to land Mr. Cecil Burleigh; and as the regattas were
going on, they might cruise off the Isle of Wight for a week, maybe, for
the master was never in a hurry. In Bessie's bower there was an
agreeable selection of novels, but she had many successive hours of
silence to dream in when she was tired of heroes and heroines. Mr.
Frederick Fairfax was the most taciturn of men, and Mr. Cecil Burleigh
was constantly busy with pens, ink, and paper. In the long course of the
day he did take shreds of leisure, but they were mostly devoted to
cigars and meditation. Bessie observed that he was older and graver
since that gay wedding at Fairfield--which of course he had a right to
be, for it was three years ago--but he was still and always a very
handsome and distinguished personage.

In the _salon_ of Canon Fournier at Bayeux, Bessie Fairfax had
disconcerted this fine gentleman, but now the tables were turned, and on
board the yacht he often disconcerted her--not of _malice prepense_, but
for want of due consideration. No doubt she was a little unformed,
ignorant girl, but her intuitive perceptions were quick, and she knew
when she was depreciated and misunderstood. On a certain afternoon he
read her some beautiful poetry under the awning, and was interested to
know whether she had any taste for poetry. Bessie confessed that at
school she had read only Racine, and felt shy of saying what she used to
read at home, and he dropped the conversation. He drew the conclusion
that she did not care for literature. At their first meeting it had
seemed as if they might become cordial friends, but she soon grew
diffident of this much-employed stranger, who always had the ill-luck to
discover to her some deficiency in her education. The effect was that by
the time the yacht anchored off Ryde, she had lost her ease in his
society, and had become as shy as he was capricious, for she thought him
a most capricious and uncertain person in temper and demeanor.

Yet it was not caprice that influenced his behavior. He was quite
unconscious of the variableness that taxed her how to meet it. He
approved of Bessie: he admired her--face, figure, air, voice, manner. He
judged that she would probably mature into a quiet and loving woman of
no very pronounced character, and there was a direct purpose in his mind
to cultivate her affection and to make her his wife. He thought her a
nice girl, sweet and sensible, but she did not enchant him. Perhaps he