d by the intrusion of
unpleasant circumstances." Mrs. Chiverton was sorry; perhaps a walk in
the park would recompose the little man. There he was, tearing over the
grass towards the lake. Then she turned to Mr. Gifford and resumed the
discussion of Morte, with a warning of the terrible responsibility he
incurred by maintaining that nest of vice and fever; but as it was
barren of results it need not be continued.

The next day the painter worked without interruption.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

_BESSIE'S PEACEMAKING._

When Bessie Fairfax returned from Castlemount she learnt for a first
piece of news that Mr. Cecil Burleigh had spent two days of her absence
at Abbotsmead, and that he had only left in the morning. To this
information her grandfather added that he had seen in his time
unsuccessful lovers, more dejected. Bessie laughed and blushed, and said
she was glad to hear he was in good spirits; and this was their first
and last allusion to the crowning episode of her visit to Brentwood. The
squire gave her one searching look, and thought it wisdom to be silent.

The green rides of the woods and glades of the park were all encumbered
with fallen leaves. The last days of autumn were flown, and winter was
come. The sound of the huntsman's horn was heard in the fields, and the
squire came out in his weather-stained scarlet coat to enjoy the sport
which was the greatest pleasure life had left for him. One fine soft
morning at the end of November the meet was at Kirkham turnpike, and
Abbotsmead entertained the gentlemen of the hunt at breakfast.

Bessie rode a little way with her grandfather, and would have ridden
farther, but he sent her back with Ranby. Mr. Cecil Burleigh had once
expressed a prejudice against foxhunting ladies, and when Mr. Fairfax
saw his granddaughter the admiration of the miscellaneous gathering, and
her acquaintance claimed by even Mr. Gifford, he adopted it. Bessie was
disappointed. She liked the exercise, the vivacity of the sport, and
Janey went so beautifully; but when her grandfather spoke she quietly
submitted. Sir Edward Lucas, though he was charmed with her figure on
horseback, was still more charmed by her obedience.

The burden of Bessie's present life threatened to be the tedium of
nothing to do. She could not read, practise her songs, and learn poetry
by heart all the hours of the day: less than three sufficed her often.
If she had been bred in a country-house, she would have posses