d, and if that leant towards Mr. Harry Musgrave, so much
the better for him; if she were a weak, impulsive girl, he would advise
delay and probation, but she was of full age and had a good sensible
head of her own; she knew Mr. Harry Musgrave's circumstances, tastes,
prejudices, and habits--what she would gain in marrying him, and what
she would resign. What more was there to say? Mr. Laurence Fairfax had
neither the power nor the will to interpose authoritatively; he made
inquiries into Mr. Harry Musgrave's university career, and talked of him
to Mr. Cecil Burleigh, who replied with magnanimity that but for the
break-down of his health he was undoubtedly one of those young men from
whose early achievement and mental force the highest successes might
have been expected in after-life. Thereupon Mr. Laurence Fairfax and his
gentle wife pitied him, and could not condemn Elizabeth.

Mrs. Carnegie considered that Bessie manifested signal prudence,
forethought, and trust in God when she proposed that her nest-egg, which
was now near a thousand pounds, should supply the means of living in
Italy for a couple of years, without reference to what might come after.
But when Elizabeth wrote to her uncle Laurence to announce what manner
of life she was preparing to enter upon, and what provision was made for
it, though he admired her courage he wrote back that it should not be so
severely tested. It was his intention to give her the portion that would
have been her father's--not so much as the old squire had destined for
her had she married as he wished (that, she knew, had gone another way),
but a competence sufficient to live on, whether at home or abroad. He
told her that one-half of her fortune ought to be settled on Mr. Harry
Musgrave, to revert to her if he died first, and he concluded by
offering himself as one of her trustees.

This generous letter made Bessie very glad, and having shown it to Lady
Latimer at breakfast, she went off with it to Brook directly after. She
found Harry in the sitting-room, turning out the contents of his old
desk. In his hand at the moment of her entrance was the white rose that
he had taken from her at Bayeux; it kept its fragrance still. She gave
him her uncle's letter to read, and when he had read it he said, "If I
did not love you so much, Bessie, this would be a burden painful to
bear."

"Then don't let us speak of it--let me bear it. I am pleased that my
uncle Laurence should be so good to