as on
the table, and the lamp was shedding its light through the open window.

"Come in, mother, come in, Bessie," said the doctor. "And, Bessie, let
us hear over again what was your adventure this afternoon?"

Bessie sat down before her cup of new milk and slice of brown bread, and
told her simple tale a second time. It had been rather pooh-poohed the
first, but it had made an impression. Said Mr. Carnegie: "And you jumped
to the conclusion that this gentleman unknown was your grandfather, even
before he asked your name? Now to describe him."

"He came from Hampton, because he rode Jefferson's old gray mare, and
the other rode the brown horse with white socks. He is a little like
Admiral Parkins--neither fat nor thin. He has white hair and a red and
brown color. He looks stern and as proud as Lucifer" (Mrs. Carnegie gave
Bessie a reproving glance), "and his voice sounds as if he were. Perhaps
he _could_ be kind--"

"You don't flatter him in his portrait, Bessie. Apparently you did not
take to him?"

"Not at all. I don't believe we shall ever be friends."

"Bessie dear, you must not set your mind against Mr. Fairfax,"
interposed her mother. "Don't encourage her in her nonsense and
prejudice, Thomas; they'll only go against her."

"Now for your grandfather's companion, Bessie: what was he like?"

"I did not notice. He was like everybody else--like Mr. Judson at the
Hampton Bank."

"That would be our correspondent, the lawyer, Mr. John Short of
Norminster."

Mr. Carnegie dropt the subject after this. His wife launched at him a
deprecating look, as much as to say, Would there not be vexation enough
for them all, without encouraging Bessie to revolt against lawful
authority? The doctor, who was guided more than he knew, thereupon held
his peace.

CHAPTER VI.

_AGAINST HER INCLINATION._

Mr. Fairfax was not a man of sentimental recollections. Nevertheless, it
did occur to him, as the twilight deepened, that somewhere in the
encumbered churchyard that he was looking down upon lay his son Geoffry
and Geoffry's first wife, Elizabeth. He felt a very lonely old man as he
thought of it. None of his sons' marriages were to boast of, but
Geoffry's, as it turned out, was the least unfortunate of any--Geoffry's
marriage with Elizabeth Bulmer, that is. If he had not approved of that
lady, he had tolerated her--pity that he had not tolerated her a little
more! The Forest climate had not suited the robust young W