About eleven o’clock the two young ladies walked out across the park towards the lodge, to pay a visit to Mrs. Stokes.  Then they walked on to the village, and home again by the mill.  The morning seemed long drawn out.  Then followed luncheon, and after it Mr. Cecil Burleigh drove in an open carriage with Bessie and his sister to Hartwell.  The afternoon was very clear and pleasant, and the scenery sufficiently varied.  On the road Bessie learnt that Hartwell was the early home of Lady Latimer, and still the residence of her bachelor brother and two maiden sisters.

The very name of Lady Latimer acted like a spell on Bessie.  She had been rather silent and reserved until she heard it, and then all at once she roused up into a vivid interest.  Mr. Cecil Burleigh studied her more attentively than he had done hitherto.  Miss Burleigh said, “Lady Latimer is another of our ambitious women.  Miss Fairfax fancies women can have no ambition on their own account, Cecil.  I have been telling her of Mrs. Chiverton.”

“And what does Miss Fairfax say of Mrs. Chiverton’s ambition?” asked Mr. Cecil Burleigh.

“Nothing,” rejoined Bessie.  But her delicate lip and nostril expressed a great deal.

The man of the world preferred her reticence to the wisest speech.  He mused for several minutes before he spoke again himself.  Then he gave air to some of his reflections:  “Lady Latimer has great qualities.  Her marriage was the blunder of her youth.  Her girlish imagination was dazzled by the name of a lord and the splendor of Umpleby.  It remains to be considered that she was not one of the melting sort, and that she made her life noble.”

Here Miss Burleigh took up the story:  “That is true.  But she would have made it more noble if she had been faithful to her first love—­to your grandfather, Miss Fairfax.”

Bessie colored.  “Oh, were they fond of each other when they were young?” she asked wondering.

“Your grandfather was devoted to her.  He had just succeeded to Abbotsmead.  All the world thought it would be a match, and great promotion for her too, when she met Lord Latimer.  He was sixty and she was nineteen, and they lived together thirty-seven years, for he survived into quite extreme old age.”

“And she had no children, and my grandfather married somebody else?” said Bessie with a plaintive fall in her voice.

“She had no children, and your grandfather married somebody else.  Lady Latimer was a most excellent wife to her old tyrant.”

Bessie looked sorrowful:  “Was he a tyrant?  I wonder whether she ever pities herself for the love she threw away?  She is quite alone—­she would give anything that people should love her now, I have heard them say in the Forest.”

“That is the revenge that slighted love so often takes.  But she must have satisfaction in her life too.  She was always more proud than tender, except perhaps to her friend, Dorothy Fairfax.  You have heard of your great-aunt Dorothy?”