"

Mr. Fairfax remarked that France was too prone to violent remedies; then
reverting to the subjects uppermost in his thoughts, he said, "Elections
and politics cannot have much interest for you yet, Elizabeth, but
probably you have heard that Mr. Cecil Burleigh is going to stand for
Norminster?"

"Yes; he spoke of it to my uncle Frederick. He is a very liberal
Conservative, from what I heard him say. There was a famous contest for
Hampton when I was not more than twelve years old: we went to see the
members chaired. My father was orange--the Carnegies are almost
radicals; they supported Mr. Hiloe--and we wore orange rosettes."

"A most unbecoming color! You must take up with blue now; blue is the
only wear for a Fairfax. Most men might wear motley for a sign of their
convictions. Let us return to the octagon parlor; it is cheerful with a
fire after dinner. At Abbotsmead there are not many evenings when a fire
is not acceptable at dusk."

The fire was very acceptable; it was very composing and pleasant. Bright
flashes of flame kindled and reddened the fragrant dry pine chips and
played about the lightly-piled logs. Mr. Fairfax took his own
commodious chair on one side of the hearth, facing the uncurtained
windows; a low seat confronted him for Bessie. Both were inclined to be
silent, for both were full of thought. The rich color and gilding of the
volumes that filled the dwarf bookcases caught the glow, as did
innumerable pretty objects besides--water-color drawings on the walls,
mirrors that reflected the landscape outside, statuettes in shrines of
crimson fluted silk--but the prettiest object by far in this dainty
lady's chamber was still Bessie Fairfax, in her white raiment and
rippled, shining hair.

This was her grandfather's reflection, and again that impulse to love
her that he had felt at Beechhurst long ago began to sway his feelings.
It was on the cards that he might become to her a most indulgent, fond
old man; but then Elizabeth must be submissive, and do his will in great
things if he allowed her to rule in small. Bessie had dropt her mask and
showed her bright face, at peace for the moment; but it was shadowed
again by the resurrection of all her wrongs when her grandfather said on
bidding her good-night, "Perhaps, Elizabeth, the assurance that will
tend most to promote your comfort at Abbotsmead, to begin with, is that
you have a perfect right to be here."

Her astonishment was too genuine to be h