ards Brentwood?

"In what event?" she asked, coloring confusedly.

"In the event of my death or your own establishment in life," said her
grandfather. "Your uncle Laurence will bring his family here, and I do
not imagine that you will choose to be one with them long; you will
prefer a home of your own."

The wave of color passed from Bessie's face. "Dear grandpapa, don't talk
of such remote events; it is time enough to think of changes and decide
when the time comes," said she.

"That is no answer, Elizabeth. Prudent people make their arrangements in
anticipation of changes, and their will in anticipation of death. Speak
plainly: do you like the lodge as a residence, or the vicinity of
Norminster?"

"Dear grandpapa, if you were no longer here I should go home to the
Forest," Bessie said, and grew very pale.

The old squire neither moved nor spoke for several minutes. He stared
out of the window, then he glanced at the lawyer and said, "You hear,
Short? now you will be convinced. She has not taken root enough to care
to live here any longer. She will go back to the Forest; all this time
she has been in exile, and cut off from those whom alone she loves. Why
should I keep her waiting at Abbotsmead for a release that may be slow
to come? Go now, Elizabeth, go now, if to stay wearies you;" and he
waved her to the door imperatively.

Bessie rose trembling and left the room, tears and indignation
struggling for the mastery. "Oh, grandpapa! why will you say such
things?" was all her remonstrance, but she felt that there are some
wrongs in this life very hard to bear.

Mr. John Short sat mute for some time after the young lady's departure.
The squire gloomed sorrowfully: "From first to last my course is nothing
but disappointment."

"I wish, sir, that you could be prevailed on to see Mr. Laurence?"
suggested the lawyer. "His wife is a very good little lady, and the boys
you might be proud of. Pray, sir, give yourself that chance of happiness
for your closing days."

"I had other plans. There will be no marriage, Short: I understand
Elizabeth. In warning me that she will return to the Forest when I am
gone, she just tells me that my hopes of her and Burleigh are all
moonshine. Well, let Laurence come. Let him come and take possession
with his children; they can leave me my corner of the house in peace. I
shall not need it very long. And Elizabeth can go _home_ when she
pleases."

Mr. Fairfax's resentment was very