speculated
in silence and many times again what her uncle Laurence might mean by
"suitably," but they had no explanation, and the occasion passed.

Bessie's little fortune was vested in the hands of trustees, and settled
absolutely to her own use. She could not anticipate her income nor make
away with it, which Mr. Carnegie said was a very good thing. Beyond that
remark, and a generous reminder that her old nest under the thatch was
ready for her whenever she liked to return and take possession, nothing
was said in the letters from Beechhurst about her grandfather's will or
her new vicissitude. She had some difficulty in writing to announce her
latest change to Harry Musgrave, but he wrote back promptly and
decisively to set her heart at rest, telling her that to his notions her
fortune was a very pretty fortune, and avowing a prejudice against being
maintained by his wife: he would greatly prefer that she should be
dependent upon him. Bessie, who was a loving woman far more than a proud
or ambitious one, was pleased by his assurance, and in answering him
again she confessed that would have been her choice too. Nevertheless,
she became rather impatient to see him and talk the matter over--the
more so because Harry manifested little curiosity to learn anything of
her family affairs unless they immediately affected herself. He told her
that he should be able to go down to Brook at the end of August, and he
begged her to meet him there. This she promised, and it was understood
between them that if she was not invited to Fairfield she would go to
the doctor's house, even though the boys might be at home for their
holidays.

Bessie was long enough at Abbotsmead after her grandfather's death to
realize how that event affected her own position there. The old servants
had been provided for by their old master, and they left--Jonquil,
Macky, Mrs. Betts, and others their contemporaries. Bessie missed their
friendly faces, and dispensed with the services of a maid. Then Mrs.
Fairfax objected to Joss in the house, lest he should bite the children,
and Janey and Ranby were not entirely at her beck and call as formerly.
The incompetent Sally, who sang a sweet cradle-song, became quite a
personage and sovereign in the nursery, and was jealous of Miss
Fairfax's intrusion into her domain. It was inevitable and natural, but
Bessie appreciated better now the forethought of her grandfather in
wishing to provide her with a roof of her own.