“Would you like to read it?  It is from my mother,” she said, holding out the letter with an impulse to be good to him.

“I can trust you with your correspondence, Elizabeth,” was his reply.

She drew back her hand quickly, and laid down the letter by her plate.  She sipped her tea, her throat aching, her eyes swimming.  The squire began to talk rather fast and loud, and in a few minutes, the meal being over, he pushed away his chair and left the room.

“The train we go into Norminster by reaches Mitford Junction at ten thirty-five,” observed Mr. Cecil Burleigh.

Bessie rose and vanished with a mutinous air, which made him laugh and whisper to his sister, as she disappeared, that the young lady had a rare spirit.  Mr. Fairfax was in the hall.  She went swiftly up to him, and laying a hand on his arm, said, in a quivering, resolute voice, “Read my letter, grandpapa.  If you will not recognize those I have the best right to love, we shall be strangers always, you and I.”

“Come up stairs:  I will read your letter,” said the old man shortly, and he mounted to her parlor, she still keeping her hold on his arm.  He stood at her table and read it, and laid it down without a word, but, glancing aside at her pleasing face, he was moved to kiss her, and then promptly effected his escape from her tyranny.  He was not displeased, and Bessie was triumphant.

“Now we can begin to be friends,” she cried softly, clapping her hands.  “I refuse to be frightened.  I shall always tell him my news, and make him listen.  If he is sarcastic, I won’t care.  He will respect me if I assert my right to be respected, and maintain that my father and mother at Beechhurst have the first and best claim on my love.  He shall not recognize them as belonging only to my past life; he shall acknowledge them as belonging to me always.  And Harry too!”

These strong resolutions arising out of that letter from the Forest exhilarated Bessie exceedingly.  There was perhaps more guile in her than was manifest on slight acquaintance, but it was the guile of a wise, warm heart.  All trace of emotion had passed away when she came down stairs, and when her grandfather, assisting her into the carriage, squeezed her fingers confidentially, her new, all-pervading sense of happiness was confirmed and established.  And the courage that happiness inspires was hers too.

At Mitford Junction, Colonel and Mrs. Stokes and Mr. Oliver Smith joined their party, and they travelled to Norminster together.  The old city was going quietly about its business much as usual when they drove through the streets to the “George,” where Mr. Cecil Burleigh was to meet his committee and address the electors out of the big middle bow-window.  Miss Jocund’s shop was nearly opposite to the inn, and thither the ladies at once adjourned, that Bessie might assume her blue bonnet.  The others were already handsomely provided.  Miss Jocund