om the tall
pedestal where his hopes have set him, and, unless it be by his own
grievous fault, he is tolerably sure to find his level of content on the
common ground. That's where I mean to walk with my Janey; and some day
you'll hold up a finger, and just as sweet a companion will come and
walk hand in hand with you."

Harry smiled despite his trouble; he knew what Christie meant, and he
believed him. He parted with his friend there, and turned back in the
soft gloom towards home, thinking of her all the way--dear little
Bessie, so frank and warm-hearted. He remembered how, when he was a boy
and lost a certain prize at school that he had reckoned on too
confidently, she had whispered away his shame-faced disappointment with
a rosy cheek against his jacket, and "Never mind, Harry, I love you."
And she would do it again, he knew she would. The feeling was in
her--she could not hide it.

But at this point of his meditations his worldly wisdom came in to dash
their beauty. Unless he could bridge with bow of highest promise the
gulf that vicissitude had opened between them since those days of
primitive affection, he need not set his mind upon her. He ought not, so
he told himself, though his mind was set upon her already beyond the
chance of turning. He did not know yet that he had a rival; when that
knowledge came all other obstacles, sentimental, chivalrous, would be
swallowed up in its portentous shadow. For to-night he held his reverie
in peace.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

_AT FAIRFIELD._

"We thought you were lost," was Lady Latimer's greeting to Bessie
Fairfax when she entered the Fairfield drawing-room, tired with her long
walk, but still in buoyant spirits.

"Oh no!" said Bessie. "I have come from Brook. When I had seen them all
at home my father carried me off there to tea."

"I observed that you were not at the evening service. The Musgraves and
those people drink tea at five o'clock: you must be ready for your
supper now. Mr. Logger, will you be so good as to ring the bell?"

Bessie was profoundly absorbed in her own happiness, but Lady Latimer's
manner, and still more the tone of her voice, struck her with an
uncomfortable chill. "Thank you, but I do not wish for anything to eat,"
she said, a little surprised.

The bell had rung, however, and the footman appeared. "Miss Fairfax will
take supper--she dined in the middle of the day," said Lady Latimer, but
nothing could be less hospitable than the inflec