state, and a second marriage; but
Laurence had suffered conjugal felicity enough, and would no more of it.
It was now that the squire first bethought himself seriously of his son
Geoffry's daughter. He proposed to bring her home to Abbotsmead, and to
marry her in due time to some poor young gentleman of good family, who
would take her name, and give the house of Fairfax a new lease, as had
been done thrice before in its long descent, by means of an heiress. The
poor young man who might be so obliging was even named. Frederick and
Laurence gave consent to whatever promised to mitigate their father's
disappointment in themselves, and the business was put into the hands of
their man of law, John Short of Norminster, than whom no man in that
venerable city was more respected for sagacity and integrity.

If Mr. Fairfax had listened to John Short in times past, he would not
have needed his help now. John Short had urged the propriety of
recalling Bessie from Beechhurst when her father died; but no good
grandmother or wise aunt survived at Kirkham to insist upon it, and the
thing was not done. The man of law did not, however, revert to what was
past remedy, but gave his mind to considering how his client might be
extricated from his existing dilemma with least pain and offence. Mr.
Fairfax had a legal right to the custody of his young kinswoman, but he
had not the conscience to plead his legal right against the long-allowed
use and custom of her friends. If they were reluctant to let her go, and
she were reluctant to come, what then? John Short confessed that Mr.
Carnegie and Bessie herself might give them trouble if they were so
disposed; but he had a reasonable expectation that they would view the
matter through the medium of common sense.

Thus much by way of prelude to the story of Bessie Fairfax's
Vicissitudes, which date from this momentous era of her life.

CHAPTER II.

_THE LAWYER'S LETTER._

"The postman! Run, Jack, and bring the letter."

_The letter_, said Mr. Carnegie; for the correspondence between the
doctor's house and the world outside it was limited. Jack jumped off his
chair at the breakfast-table and rushed to do his father's bidding.

"For mother!" cried he, returning at the speed of a small whirlwind, the
epistle held aloft. Down he clapped it on the table by her plate,
mounted into his chair again, and resumed the interrupted business of
the hour.

Mrs. Carnegie glanced aside at the lette