“I do not like those sun-pictures.  They are not permanent, and a water-color drawing is more pleasing to begin with.  You can draw a little, Elizabeth?  Have you any sketches about Caen or Bayeux?”

Bessie modestly said that she had, and went to bring them; school-girl fashion, she wished to exhibit her work, and to hear that the money spent on her neglected education had not been all spent in vain.  Her grandfather was graciously inclined to commend her productions.  He told her that she had a nice touch, and that it was quite worth her while to cultivate her talent.  “It will add a great interest to your travels when you have the chance of travelling,” he said; “for, like life itself, travelling has many blank spaces that a taste for sketching agreeably fills up.  Ten o’clock already?  Yes—­good-night.”

* * * * *

The following morning Mr. Fairfax and Bessie walked to church together.  Along the road everybody acknowledged the squire with bow or curtsey, and the little children stood respectfully at gaze as he passed.  He returned the civility of all by lifting a forefinger to his hat, though he spoke to none, and Bessie was led to understand that he had the confidence of his people, and that he probably deserved it.  For a sign that there was no bitterness in his own feelings, each token of regard was noted by her with satisfaction.

At the lodge Colonel and Mrs. Stokes joined them, and Mrs. Stokes’s bright eyes frankly appreciated the elegant simplicity of Bessie’s attire, her chip bonnet and daisies, her dress of French spun silk, white and violet striped, and perfectly fitting Paris gloves.  She nodded meaningly to Bessie, and Bessie smiled back her full comprehension that the survey was satisfactory and pleasing.

Some old customs still prevailed at Kirkham.  The humble congregation was settled in church before the squire entered his red-curtained pew, and sat quiet after sermon until the squire went out.  Bessie’s thoughts roved often during the service.  Mr. Forbes read apace, and the clerk sang out the responses like an echo with no time to lose.  There had been a death in the village during the past week, and the event was now commemorated by a dirge in which the children’s shrill treble was supported by the majority of the congregation.  The sermon also took up the moral of life and death.  It was short and pithy; perhaps it was familiar, and none the less useful for that.  Mr. Forbes was not concerned to lead his people into new ways; he believed the old were better.  Work and pray, fear God and keep His commandments, love your neighbor, and meddle not with those who are given to change,—­these were his cardinal points, from which he brought to bear on their consciences much powerful doctrine and purifying precept.  He was a man of high courage and robust faith, who practised what he preached, and bore that cheerful countenance which is a sign of a heart in prosperity.