bitter against Bessie, at first, for
the frank exposition she had made of her future intentions. She had
meant no unkindness, but simple honesty. He did not take it so, and when
her customary duty and service brought her next into his presence he
made her feel how deeply she had offended. He rejected her offer to read
to him, put aside her helping hand, and said he would have Jonquil to
assist him; she need not remain. He uttered no accusation against her
and no reproach; he gave her no opportunity of softening her abrupt
announcement; he just set her at a distance, as it were, and made
himself unapproachable. Bessie betook herself in haste to her white
parlor, to hide the blinding tears in her eyes and the mortification in
her heart. "And he wonders that so few love him!" she said to herself,
not without anger even in her pitiful yearning to be friends again.

A week of alienation followed this scene, and Bessie was never more
miserable. Day by day she tried to resume her loving care of her
grandfather, and day by day she was coldly repulsed. Jonquil, Macky,
Mrs. Betts, all sympathized in silence; their young lady was less easy
to condole with now than when she was fresh from school. The old squire
was as wretched as he made his granddaughter. He had given permission
for his son to come to Abbotsmead, and he seemed in no haste to embrace
the permission. When he came at last, he brought little Justus with him,
but he had to say that it was only for a few hours. In fact, his wife
was extremely unwilling to abandon their happy, independent home in the
Minster Court, and he was equally unwilling to force her inclination.
Mr. Fairfax replied, "You know best," and gazed at his grandson, who,
from between his father's knees, gazed at him again without any advance
towards good-fellowship. A formal reconciliation ensued, but that was
all. For the kindness that springs out of a warm, affectionate nature
the old squire had to look to Elizabeth, and without any violent
transition they glided back into their former habits and relations.
Bessie was saddened a little by her late experiences, but she was not
quite new to the lesson that the world is a place of unsatisfied hopes
and defeated intentions.

Mr. John Short was often to and fro between Abbotsmead and Norminster
during that summer, and an idea prevailed in the household that the
squire was altering his will again. His son Frederick had died
intestate, and the squire had tak