Mr. Carnegie had nothing to advise. He felt tolerably sure that Bessie would tell her mother every serious matter that befell her, and as she had not mentioned this he drew the inference that it was not serious.
The first warm days of summer saw Mr. Fairfax out again, walking in the garden with a stick and the support of his granddaughter's shoulder. She was an excellent and patient companion, he said. Indeed, Bessie could forget herself entirely in another's want, and since this claim for care and helpfulness had been made upon her the tedium of life oppressed her no more. It was thus that Mr. Cecil Burleigh next saw her again. He had taken his seat in the House, and had come down to Brentwood for a few days; and when he called to visit his old friend, Jonquil sent him round to the south terrace, where Mr. Fairfax was walking with Bessie in the sun.
In her black dress Bessie looked taller, more womanly, and there was a sweet peace and kindness in her countenance, which, combined with a sudden blush at the sight of him, caused him to discover in her new graces and a more touching beauty than he had been able to discern before. Mr. Fairfax was very glad to see him, and interested to hear all he had to tell. Since he had learnt to appreciate at their real worth his granddaughter's homely virtues, his desire for her union with this gentleman had revived. He had the highest opinion of Mr. Cecil Burleigh's disposition, and he would be thankful to put her in his keeping—a jewel worth having.
Presently Bessie was released from her attendance, and the visitor took her place: her grandfather wished to speak to Mr. Cecil Burleigh alone. He began by reverting to the old project of their marriage, and was easily satisfied with an assurance that the gentleman desired it with all his heart. Miss Julia Gardiner's wedding had not yet taken place. She had been delicate through the winter, and Mr. Brotherton had succumbed to a sharp attack of gout in the early spring. So there had been delay after delay, but the engagement continued in force, and Mr. Cecil Burleigh had not repeated his indecorous visit. He believed that he was quite weaned from that temptation.
Mr. Fairfax gave him every encouragement to renew his siege to Elizabeth, and promised him a dower with her if he succeeded that should compensate for her loss of position as heiress of Abbotsmead. It was an understood thing that Mr. Cecil Burleigh could not afford to marry a scantily-portioned wife, and a whisper got abroad that Miss Fairfax was to prosper in her fortunes as she behaved, and to be rich or poor according as she married to please her grandfather or persevered in refusing his choice. If Bessie heard it, she behaved as though she heard it not. She went on being good to the old man with a most complete and unconscious self-denial—read to him, wrote for him, walked and drove with him at his will and pleasure, which began to be marked with all the exacting caprice of senility. And the days, weeks, months slipped round again to golden September. Monotony abridges time, and, looking behind her, Bessie could hardly believe that it was over a year ago since she came home from France.
One day her grandfather observed or imagined that she looked paler than her wont. He had a letter in his hand, which he gave to her, saying, "You were disappointed of your visit to Fairfield in the spring, Elizabeth: would you like to go now? Lady Latimer renews her invitation, and I will spare you for a week or two."
Oh, the surprise and delight of this unexpected bounty! Bessie blushed with gratitude. She was the most grateful soul alive, and for the smallest mercies. Lady Latimer wrote that she should not find Fairfield dull, for Dora Meadows was on a long stay there, and she expected her friend Mr. Logger, and probably other visitors. Mr. Fairfax watched his granddaughter narrowly through the perusal of the document. There could be no denial that she was eagerness itself to go, but whether she had any motive deeper than the renewal of love with the family amidst which she had been brought up, he could not ascertain. There was a great jealousy in his mind concerning that young Musgrave of whose visit to Bayeux Mr. Cecil Burleigh had told him, and a settled purpose to hinder Elizabeth from what he would have called an unequal match. At the same time that he would not force her will, he would have felt fully justified in thwarting it; but he had a hope that the romance of her childish memories would fade at contact with present realities. Lady Latimer had suggested this possible solution of a difficulty, and Lady Angleby had supported her, and had agreed that it was time now to give Mr. Cecil Burleigh a new opportunity of urging his suit, and the coy young lady a chance of comparing him with those whom her affection and imagination had invested with greater attractions. There was feminine diplomacy in this, and the joyful accident that appeared to Bessie a piece of spontaneous kindness and good-fortune was the result of a well-laid and well-matured plan. However, as she remained in blissful ignorance of the design, there was no shadow forecast upon her pleasure, and she prepared for a fortnight's absence with satisfaction unalloyed.
"You are quite sure you will not miss me, grandpapa—quite sure you can do without me?" she affectionately pleaded.
"Yes, yes, I can do without you. I shall miss you, and shall be glad to see you home again, but you have deserved your holiday, and Lady Latimer might feel hurt if I refused to let you go."
Before leaving Woldshire, Bessie went to Norminster. The old house in Minster Court was more delightful to her than ever. There was another little boy in the nursery now, called Richard, after his grandfather. Bessie had to seek Mrs. Laurence Fairfax at the Manor House, where Lady Eden was celebrating the birthday of her eldest son. She was seated in the garden conversing with a young Mrs. Tindal, amidst a group of mothers besides, whose children were at play on the grass. Mr. Laurence Fairfax was a man of philosophic benevolence, and when advances were made to his wife (who had a sense and cleverness beyond anything that could have been expected in anything so bewilderingly pretty) by ladies of the rank to which he had raised her, he met them with courtesy, and she had now two friends in Lady Eden and Mrs. Tindal, whose society she especially enjoyed, because they all had babies and nearly of an age. Bessie told her grandfather where and in what company she had found her little cousins and their mother. The squire was silent, but he was not affronted. No results, however, came of her information, and she left Abbotsmead the next morning without any further reference to the family in Minster Court.