ng the temperature of
her cheeks with her cool hands.

Mrs. Betts judiciously hesitated, then, speaking in a milder voice,
said, "Yes--perhaps it would not be noticed. But tears was the very
mischief for eyes--_that_ Miss Fairfax might take her word for. And it
was old Lady Angleby and her niece, one of the Miss Burleighs, who were
down stairs."

Bessie blushed consciously, appealed to the looking-glass again,
adjusted her mind to her duty, and descended to the octagon parlor. The
rose was no worse for the shower. Mr. Fairfax was there, standing with
his back to the fireplace, and lending his ears to an argument that was
being slowly enunciated by the noble matron who filled his chair. A
younger lady, yet not very young, who was seated languidly with her back
to the light, acknowledged Bessie's entrance with a smile that invited
her approach. "I think," she said, "you know my brother Cecil?" and so
they were introduced.

For several minutes yet Lady Angleby's eloquence oozed on (her theme was
female emancipation), the squire listening with an inscrutable
countenance. "Now, I hope you feel convinced," was her triumphant
conclusion. Mr. Fairfax did not say whether he was convinced or not. He
seemed to observe that Elizabeth had come in, and begged to present his
granddaughter to her ladyship. Elizabeth made her pretty curtsey, and
was received with condescension, and felt, on a sudden, a most
unmannerly inclination to laugh, which she dissembled under a girlish
animation and alacrity in talk. The squire was pleased that she
manifested none of the stupid shyness of new young-ladyhood, though in
the presence of one of the most formidable of county magnates. Elizabeth
did not know that Lady Angleby was formidable, but she saw that she was
immense, and her sense of humor was stirred by the instant perception
that her self-consequence was as enormous as her bulk. But Miss Burleigh
experienced a thrill of alarm. The possibility of being made fun of by a
little simple girl had never suggested itself to the mind of her august
relative, but there was always the risk that her native shrewdness might
wake up some day from the long torpor induced by the homage paid to her
rank, and discover the humiliating fact that she was not always
imposing. By good luck for Miss Fairfax's favor with her, Pascal's maxim
recurred to her memory--that though it is not necessary to respect grand
people it is necessary to bow to them--and her tempta