d in rich black silk and lace--carefully dressed,
but the three years that had passed since Bessie Fairfax last saw her
had left their mark. Bessie, her heart swelling, her eyes shining with
emotion, moved to meet her, but Lady Latimer only shook hands with sweet
ceremoniousness, and she was instantly herself again. The likeness that
had struck the maiden sisters did not strike my lady, or, being warned
of it, she was on her guard. There was a momentary silence, and then
with cold pale face she turned to Mr. Fairfax, congratulated him on
having his granddaughter at home, and asked how long she had been at
Abbotsmead. Soon appeared Mr. Oliver Smith, anxious to talk election
gossip with his neighbor; and for a few minutes Bessie had Lady Latimer
to herself, to gaze at and admire, and confusedly to listen to, telling
Beechhurst news.

"Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie charged me with innumerable kind words for
you--Jack wants you to go home before he goes to sea--Willie and Tom
want you to make tails for their kites--Miss Buff will send you a letter
soon--Mr. Wiley trusts you have forgiven him his forgetfulness of your
message."

"Oh no, I have not. He lost me an opportunity that may come again I know
not when," said Bessie impetuously.

"I must persuade your grandfather to lend you to me for a month next
spring, when the leaves are coming out and the orchards are in blossom;
or, if he cannot spare you then, when the autumn tints begin."

"Oh, thank you! But I think the Forest lovely at all seasons--when the
boughs are bare or when they are covered with snow."

Bessie would have been glad that the invitation should come now, without
waiting for next year, but that was not even thought of. Lady Latimer
was looking towards the gentlemen, more interested in their interests
than in the small Beechhurst chat that Bessie would never have tired of.
After a few minutes of divided attention my lady rose, and _a propos_ of
the Norminster election expressed her satisfaction in the career that
seemed to be opening for Mr. Cecil Burleigh:

"Lord Latimer thought highly of him from a boy. He was often at Umpleby
in the holidays. He is like a son to my old friend at Brentwood; Lady
Angleby is happy in having a nephew who bids fair to attain distinction,
since her own sons prefer obscurity. She deplores their want of
ambition: it must be indeed a trial to a mother of her aspiring temper."
So my lady talked on, heard and not often interrupted; i