swerved in his heart from
Bessie; that is, he never harbored the thought that she would not one
day be his wife, and he still hugged the delusion that he preferred
poverty with her to riches with any other woman in all the world. But
until the time arrived when he must take her and poverty, he surely
might enjoy himself, and he was doing so to the best of his ability when
Jack's letter came, informing him of Archie's death and of his intention
to make Bessie his wife if she would have him.

Then Neil roused himself, and, telling his party what had happened, said
he must start for Stoneleigh at once. Mr. McPherson was dead, and his
Cousin Bessie was alone, and it was his duty to go to her; and in spite
of Blanche's entreaties and his friends' protestations against it, he
started immediately, and, travelling day and night, reached Stoneleigh
on the afternoon of the day of Jack's departure.

With a cry of glad surprise, Bessie threw herself into his arms, and
wept as she had not done since her father died.

"Oh, Neil," she sobbed, "I am so glad, I have wanted you so much, and
been so wretched because you neither wrote nor came."

"But I did write you, darling, before I left Vichy, and the letter must
have gone astray," he said, "and then the moment I got Jack's letter I
started and came to you. Don't cry, Bessie; it hurts me to see you feel
so badly. Try and be quiet, and tell me all about it, and what Grey
Jerrold and Jack did and said. They were both here, I understand, and
both in love with you."

Neil spoke a little sharply now, and Bessie looked inquiringly at him,
as, drawing her to a seat, he sat down beside her, and with his arm
around her and her head upon his breast he went on:

"Jack wrote me all about it--that he believed Grey pretty far gone, but
that _he_ should get the start and ask you to be Lady Trevellian, and I
believe he will do it, too; and if he does I hope you will put him down
effectually, but don't for Heaven's sake, tell him of our engagement.
That must be our secret awhile longer. I cannot meet mother's
disapproval just yet. Do you believe, that horrid old aunt in America
wrote asking me to come out there and oversee the hands in a cotton
mill. Niggers, I dare say, as I believe they are mostly that in
Massachusetts, are they not?"

Bessie did not reply to this, but said to him, quietly:

"Mr. Trevellian asked me to be his wife--here--this morning, and I told
him no, and that I was plight