down the house--if it does not fall down of itself before--and build it
up again on the original plan, for I admire not all things new. With the
garden replanted and the fine old trees left, it will be a paradise--as
much of a paradise as any modern Adam can desire. And Bessie shall be my
Eve."

"You will see so many Eves between now and then, Harry, that you will
have forgotten me," cried Bessie.

Harry rejoined: "You are quite as likely to be carried away by a bluff
Woldshire squire as I am to fall captive to other Eves."

"You know, Harry, I shall always be fondest of you. We have been like
real cousins. But won't you be growing rather old before you are rich
enough to buy Brook?"

"If I am, you will be growing rather old too, Bessie. What do you call
old--thirty?"

"Yes. Do you mean to put off life till you are thirty?"

"No. I mean to work and play every day as it comes. But one must have
some great events to look forward to. My visions are of being master of
Brook and of marrying Bessie. One without the other would be only half a
good fortune."

"Do you care so much for me as that, Harry? I was afraid you cared for
little Christie more than for me now."

"Don't be jealous of little Christie, Bessie. Surely I can like you
both. There are things a girl does not understand. You belong to me as
my father and mother do. I have told you everything. I have not told
anybody but you what I intend about Brook--not even my mother. I want it
to be our secret."

"So it shall, Harry. You'll see how I can keep it," cried Bessie
delighted.

"I trust you, because I know if I make a breakdown you will not change.
When I missed the English verse-prize last year (you remember, Bessie?)
I had made so sure of it that I could hardly show my face at home.
Mother was disappointed, but you just snuggled up to me and said, 'Never
mind, Harry, I love you;' and you did not care whether I had a prize or
none. And that was comfort. I made up my mind at that minute what I
should do."

"Dear old Harry! I am sure your verses were the best, far away," was
Bessie's response; and then she begged to hear more of what her comrade
meant to do.

Harry did not want much entreating. His schemes could hardly be called
castles in the air, so much of the solid and reasonable was there in the
design of them. He had no expectation of success by wishing, and no
trust in strokes of luck. Life is a race, and a harder race than ever.
Nobody achie