"But I should have had a right to complain, and I should have complained," said Bessie. "My grandfather and I are friends now, because I have plucked up courage to assert my right to respect myself and my friends who brought me up; otherwise we must have quarrelled soon."
Mr. Laurence Fairfax smiled: "My father can be obstinately unforgiving. So he was to my brother Geoffry and his wife; so he may be to me, though we have never had a disagreement."
"I could fancy that he was sometimes sorry for his unkindness to my father. I shall not submit if he attempt to forbid me your house or the joy of seeing my little cousins. Oh, his heart must soften to them soon. I am glad he saw Justus, the darling!"
Bessie Fairfax had evidently no worldly ambition. All her desire was still only to be loved. Her uncle Laurence admired her unselfishness, and before she left his house at the week's end he had her confidence entirely. He did not place too much reliance on her recollections of Beechhurst as the place where she had centred her affections, for young affections are prone to weave a fine gossamer glamour about early days that will not bear the touch of later experience; but he was sure there had been a blunder in bringing her into Woldshire without giving her a pause amongst those scenes where her fond imagination dwelt, if only to sweep it clear of illusions and make room for new actors on the stage of her life. He said to Mr. Cecil Burleigh, with whom he had an important conversation during her visit to Minster Court, that he did not believe she would ever give her mind to settling amongst her north-country kindred until she had seen again her friends in the Forest, and Mr. Cecil Burleigh began to agree with him. Miss Burleigh did the same.
It was settled already that the recent disclosure must make no alteration in the family compact. Mr. Cecil Burleigh interposed a firm veto when its repeal was hinted at. Every afternoon, one excepted, he called on Miss Fairfax to report the progress of his canvass, accompanied by his sister, and Bessie always expressed herself glad in his promising success. But it was with a cool cheek and candor shining clear in her blue eyes that she saw them come and saw them go; and both brother and sister felt this discouraging. The one fault they found in Miss Fairfax was an absence of enthusiasm for themselves; and Bessie was so thankful that she had overcome her perverse trick of blushing at nothing. When she took her final leave of them before quitting Minster Court, Mr. Cecil Burleigh said that he should probably be over at Abbotsmead in the course of the ensuing week, and Bessie was glad as usual, and smiled cordially, and hoped that blue would win—as if he were thinking only of the election!
He was thinking of it, and perhaps primarily, but his interest in herself was becoming so much warmer and more personal than it had promised to be that it would have given him distinct pleasure to perceive that she was conscious of it.
The report of Mr. Laurence Fairfax's private marriage had spread through city and country, but Bessie went back to Kirkham without having heard it discussed except by Mrs. Betts, who was already so deeply initiated in the family secrets. That sage and experienced woman owned frankly to her young mistress that in her judgment it was a very good thing, looked at in the right way.
"A young lady that is a great heiress is more to be pitied than envied: that is my opinion," said she. "If she is not made a sacrifice of in marriage, it is a miracle. Men run after her for her money, or she fancies they do, which comes to the same thing; and perhaps she doesn't marry at all for suspecting nobody loves her; which is downright foolish. Jonquil and Macky are in great spirits over what has come out, and I don't suppose there is one neighbor to Kirkham that won't be pleased to hear that there's grandsons, even under the rose, to carry on the old line. Mrs. Laurence is a dear sweet lady, and the children are handsome little fellows as ever stepped; their father may well be proud of 'em. He has done a deal better for himself the second time than he did the first. I dare say it was what he suffered the first time made him choose so different the second. It is not to be wondered at that the squire is vext, but he ought to have learnt wisdom now, and it is to be hoped he will come round by and by. But whether or not, the deed's done, and he cannot undo it."
Mrs. Betts's summary embodied all the common sense of the case, and left nothing more to be said.