n't you think my uncle would wait a day
if I begged him?" cried Bessie in acute dismay.

"No, miss--not if he has given orders and the wind keeps fair. If I was
in your place, miss, I should not ask him. And as for the telegram, I
should not name it. It would put Mr. Frederick out, and do no good."

Bessie did not name it. Mrs. Betts's speculation proved correct. The
yacht sailed away in the afternoon. About the time when Mrs. Carnegie
was hurriedly dressing to drive with her husband to Hampton over-night,
to ensure not missing the mail-boat to Ryde in the morning, that gay and
pleasant town was fast receding from Bessie's view. At dawn the island
was out of sight, and when Mr. Carnegie, landing on the pier, sought a
boat to carry him and his wife to the Foam, a boatman looked up at him
and said, "The Foam, sir? You'll have much ado to overtake her. She's
halfway to Hastings by this time. She sailed yesterday soon after five
o'clock."

Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie turned away in silence. They had nothing to do but
sorrowfully to repair home again. They were more grieved at heart by
this disappointment than by any that had preceded it; and all the more
did they try to cheer one another.

"Don't fret, Jane: it hurts me to see you fret," said the doctor. "It
was a nice thought in Bessie, but the chance was a poor one."

"We have lost her, Thomas; I fear we have lost her," said his wife. "It
is unnatural to pass by our very door, so to speak, and not let us see
her. But I don't blame her."

"No, no, Bessie is not to blame: Harry Musgrave can tell us better than
that. It is Mr. Fairfax--his orders. He forbade her coming, or it might
have been managed easily. It is a mistake. He will never win her heart
so; and as for ruling her except through her affections, he will have a
task. I'm sorry, for the child will not be happy."

When Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie arrived at home they found Bessie's letter
that had come by post--an abrupt, warm little letter that comforted them
for themselves, but troubled them for her exceedingly. "God bless her,
dear child!" said her mother. "I am afraid she will cry sadly, Thomas,
and nobody to say a loving word to her or give her a kiss."

"It is a pity; she will have her share of vexations. But she is young
and can bear them, with all her life before her. We will answer that
pretty letter, that she may have something to encourage her when she
gets amongst her grand relations. I suppose it may be a w