th me occasionally. I suppose you have never done
that?"

"Mr. Musgrave once took me to see the hounds throw off. I rode Harry's
pony that day. I was staying at Brook for a week."

Mr. Fairfax knew who "Mr. Musgrave" was and who "Harry" was, but Bessie
did not recollect that he knew. However, as he asked no explanation of
them, she volunteered none, and they returned to the gardens.

The cultivated grounds of Abbotsmead extended round three sides of the
house. On the west, where the principal entrance was, an outer
semicircle of lime trees, formed by the extension of the avenue,
enclosed a belt of evergreens, and in the middle of the drive rose a
mound over which spread a magnificent cedar. The great hall was the
central portion of the building, lighted by two lofty, square-headed
windows on either side of the door; the advanced wings that flanked it
had corresponding bays of exquisite proportions, which were the
end-windows of the great drawing-room and the old banqueting-room. The
former was continued along the south, with one bay very wide and deep,
and on either side of it a smaller bay, all preserving their dim glazing
after the old Venetian pattern. Beyond the drawing-room was the modern
adaptation of the wing which contained the octagon parlor and
dining-room: from the outside the harmony of construction was not
disturbed. The library adjoined the banqueting-room on the north, and
overlooked a fine expanse where the naturalization of American trees and
shrubs had been the hobby of the Fairfaxes for more than one generation.
The flower-garden was formed in terraces on the south, and was a mixture
of Italian and old English taste. The walls were a mingled tapestry of
roses, jessamine, sweet clematis, and all climbing plants hardy enough
to bear the rigors of the northern winter. Trimmed in though ever so
closely in the fall of the year, in the summer it bushed and blossomed
out into a wantonly luxuriant, delicious variety of color and fragrance.
If here and there a bit of gray stone showed through the mass, it
seemed only to enhance the loveliness of the leaf and flower-work.

Bessie Fairfax stood to admire its glowing intricacy, and with a
remarkable effort of candor exclaimed, "I think this is as pretty as
anything in the Forest--as pretty as Fairfield or the manor-house at
Brook;" which amused her grandfather, for the south front of the old
mansion-house of Abbotsmead was one of the most grandly picturesque