le on the
road, but Bessie would not permit the poor mother to walk any farther
with her. They parted with a kiss. "And God for ever bless you, Bessie
Fairfax, if you have it in your heart to be to Harry what nobody else
can be," said his mother, laying her tremulous hands on the girl's
shoulders. Bessie kissed her again and went on her way rejoicing. This
was one of the happiest hours her life had ever known. She was not
tempted to dwell wantonly on the dark side of events present, and there
were so many brighter possibilities in the future that she could
entirely act out the divine precept to let the morrow take thought for
the things of itself.

When Bessie Fairfax reached Fairfield, Roberts informed her in a
depressed manner that her ladyship was waiting dinner. Bessie started at
this view of her impolite absence, and hastened to the drawing-room to
apologize. But Lady Latimer coldly waived her explanations, and Bessie
felt very self-reproachful until an idea occurred to her what she would
do. After a brief retreat and rapid toilet she reappeared with Harry's
manuscript in her hand, and with simple craft displaying the roll, she
said, "This is for us to read--a true story. It is not in print yet, but
Mr. Harry Musgrave writes a plain hand. We are to give him our opinion
of it. I believe that, after all, he will be a poor author--one of my
heroes, Lady Latimer."

"One of your heroes, Elizabeth? There is nothing very heroic in Mr.
Logger," rejoined my lady softening, and holding out her hand for the
manuscript. "Is the young man very ill?"

"No, no--not so ill that we need fear his dying inglorious without
giving the world something to remember him by, but discouraged by the
dicta of friends and physicians, who consign him to idleness and
obscurity for a year or two."

"Which idleness and obscurity I presume it is your wish to alleviate?"
said Lady Latimer with half-contemptuous resignation. "Come to dinner
now: we will read your hero's story afterward."

Lady Latimer's personal interests were so few that it was a necessity
for her generous soul to adopt the interests of other people. She kept
Bessie reading until eleven o'clock, when she was dismissed to bed and
ordered to leave the manuscript below, lest she should sit up and read
it when she ought to be asleep. But what Bessie might not do my lady was
quite at liberty to do herself, and she made an end of the tale before
she retired. And not only that. She wr