lf respecting
that grand gentleman, the member of Parliament, who by Lady Latimer's
account was her suitor some time ago and still.

"I am puzzled, Thomas, and that is the truth--girls are so deep," Mrs.
Carnegie said.

"Too deep sometimes for their own comprehension--eh? At any rate, she is
not moping and pining. She is as fresh as a rose, and her health and
spirits are all right. I don't remember when I have felt so thankful as
at the sight of her bonny face to-day."

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

_SUNDAY EVENING AT BROOK._

That still Sunday afternoon across the glowing heath to Great-Ash Ford
was most enchanting. Every step of the way was a pleasure to Bessie. And
when they came to the ford, whom should they see resting under the shade
of the trees but Harry Musgrave and young Christie? Harry's attitude was
somewhat weary. He leant on one elbow, recumbent upon the turf, and with
flat pebbles dexterously thrown made ducks and drakes upon the surface
of the shallow pool where the cattle drank. Young Christie was talking
with much earnestness--propounding some argument apparently--and neither
observed the approach of Mr. Carnegie and his companion until they were
within twenty paces. Then a sudden flush overspread Harry's face. "It
_is_ Bessie Fairfax!" said he, and sprang to his feet and advanced to
meet her. Bessie was rosy too, and her eyes dewy bright. Young Christie,
viewing her as an artist, called her to himself the sweetest and most
womanly of women, and admired her the more for her kind looks at his
friend. Harry's _ennui_ was quite routed.

"We were walking to Brook--your mother will give us a cup of tea,
Harry?" said Mr. Carnegie.

Harry was walking home to Brook too, with Christie for company; his
mother would be only too proud to entertain so many good friends. They
went along by the rippling water together, and entered the familiar
garden by the wicket into the wood. Mr. and Mrs. Musgrave were out there
on the green slope under the beeches, awaiting their son and his friend,
and lively were their exclamations of joy when they saw who their other
visitors were.

"Did I not tell you little Bessie was at church, Harry?" cried his
father, turning to him with an air of triumph.

"And he would not believe it. I thought myself it must be a mistake,"
said Mrs. Musgrave.

Bessie was touched to the heart by their cordial welcome. She made a
most favorable impression. Mr. Musgrave thought her as handsome a