gratification of telling Bessie his news himself; and the
ride in the hot, airless weather had been too fatiguing. Bessie took up
a piece of work and sat by the window, silent, soothing. He turned his
chair to face her, and from his position he had a distant view of the
sea--a dark blue line on the horizon. He had been fond of the sea and of
boats from his first school-days at Hampton, and as he contemplated its
great remote calm a longing to be out upon it took possession of him,
which he immediately confessed to Bessie. Bessie did not think he need
long in vain for that--it was easy of accomplishment. He said yes--Ryde
was not far, and a Ryde wherry was a capital craft for sailing.

Just as he was speaking Lady Latimer came back bringing some delicious
fruit for Harry's refreshment. "What is that you are saying about Ryde?"
she inquired quickly. "I am going to Ryde for a week or two, and as I
shall take Elizabeth with me, you can come to us there, Mr. Musgrave,
and enjoy the salt breezes. It is very relaxing in the Forest at this
season."

Bessie by a glance supplicated Harry to be gracious, and in obedience to
her mute entreaty he thanked her ladyship and said it would give him the
truest pleasure. My lady had never thought of going to Ryde until that
moment, but since she had seen Harry Musgrave and had been struck by the
tragedy of his countenance, and all that was meant by his having to fall
out of the race of life so early, she was impelled by an irresistible
goodness of nature to be kind and generous to him. Robust people,
healthy, wealthy, and wise, she could let alone, but poverty, sickness,
or any manner of trouble appealed straight to her noble heart, and
brought out all her spirit of Christian fellowship. She was prompt and
thorough in doing a good action, and when she met the young people at
luncheon her arrangements for going to the island were all made, and she
announced that the next day, in the cool of the evening, they would
drive to Hampton and cross by the last boat to Ryde. This sudden and
complete revolution in her behavior was not owing to any change in
principle, but to sheer pitifulness of temper. She had not realized
before what an immense disaster and overthrow young Musgrave was
suffering, but at the sight of his pathetic visage and weakened frame,
and of Elizabeth's exquisite tenderness, she knew that such great love
must be given to him for consolation and a shield against despair. It
was