glad of it."

"Is it possible?" said Lady Latimer in a low, chagrined voice. "Then you
have lost him. I presume that you felt the strain of such high
companionship too severe for you? Early habits cling very close."

"He had no fascination for me; it was an effort sometimes."

"You must have been carrying on a correspondence with Mr. Harry Musgrave
all this while."

"We have corresponded during the last year," said Bessie calmly.

"I blame myself that I ever gave the opportunity for a renewal of your
old friendliness. That is the secret of your wilfulness."

"I loved Harry best--that is the secret of it," said Bessie; and she
turned away to close the discussion.

It was a profound mortification to Lady Latimer to hear within the week
from various quarters that Mr. Cecil Burleigh was at Ryde, and to all
appearance on the happiest terms with Miss Julia Gardiner. And in fact
they were quietly married one morning by special license, and the next
news of them was that they were travelling in the Tyrol.

It was about a week after this, when Bessie was spending a few hours
with her mother, that she heard of Harry Musgrave's arrival at Brook. It
was the doctor who brought the intelligence. He came into the little
drawing-room where his wife and Bessie were sitting, and said, "I called
at Brook in passing and saw poor Harry."

"Well, Thomas, and how is he?" inquired Mrs. Carnegie in the anxious
tone a kind voice takes when asking after the health of a friend who may
be in a critical way. Bessie dropped her work and looked from one to the
other.

The doctor did not answer directly, but, addressing Bessie, he said,
"You must not be shocked, my dear, when you see Harry Musgrave."

"What is the matter? I have heard nothing: is he ill again?" cried
Bessie.

"He must never go back to London," said Mr. Carnegie with a great sigh.

"Is it so bad as that? Poor Harry!" said his wife in a sad, suppressed
tone. Bessie said nothing: her throat ached, her eyes burnt, but she was
too stunned and bewildered to inquire further, and yet she thought she
had been prepared for something like this.

"He asked after you, Bessie, and when you would go to see him," the
doctor went on.

"I will go now. It is not too late? he is not too tired? will he be
glad?" Bessie said, all in a breath.

"Yes, he wants to talk to you; but you will have to walk all the way,
dear, and alone, for I have to go the other road."

"Oh, the walk will not