and having once mentioned them, he found her a resource to
complain to again. She hoped that he would get over his defeat the
sooner for talking of it, but he did not. He was utterly convinced that
he had right on his side, and he wanted a new trial, from which Mr. John
Short could hardly dissuade him. The root of his profound annoyance was
that Abbotsmead must be encumbered to pay for the lost suit, unless his
son Frederick, who had ready money accumulated from the unspent fortune
of his wife, would come to the rescue. In answer to his father's appeal
Frederick wrote back that a certain considerable sum which he mentioned
was at his service, but as for the bulk of his wife's fortune, he
intended it to revert to her family. Mr. Laurence Fairfax made, through
the lawyer, an offer of further help to keep Abbotsmead clear of
mortgages, and with the bitter remark that it was Laurence's interest to
do so, the squire accepted his offer.

So much at this crisis did Bessie hear of money and the burden and
anxiety of great estates that she thought poverty must be far
preferable. The squire developed a positively bad temper under his
worries. And he was not irritable only: by degrees he became ill, and
yet would have no advice. Jonquil was greatly troubled about him, and
when he refused to mount his horse one splendid hunting morning in
February, though he was all equipped and ready, Bessie also began to
wonder what ailed him besides crossness, for he was a man of strong
constitution and not subject to fanciful infirmities.

Early in March, Mr. Frederick Fairfax wrote home that his Russian tour
was accomplished, and that he was impatient to be on board his yacht
again. The weather was exceedingly rough and tempestuous later in the
month, and the squire, watching the wrack of the storm on the wolds,
often expressed anxiety lest his son should be rash and venturesome
enough to trust himself out of port in such weather. Everybody was
relieved when April opened with sunny showers and the long and severe
winter seemed to be at an end. It had not made Bessie more in love with
her life at Abbotsmead: there had, indeed, been times of inexpressible
dreariness in it very trying to her fortitude. With the dawning of
brighter days in spring she could not but think of the Forest with fresh
longing, and she watched each morning's post for the arrival of that
invitation to Fairfield which Lady Latimer had promised to send. At
length it came, a