Such was the attitude of parties on the famous occasion of Lady Angleby’s ball to celebrate her nephew’s successful election.  Miss Fairfax had been a great help to Miss Burleigh in arranging the fruit and the flowers, and if Mrs. Betts had not been peremptory in making her rest a while before dinner, she would have been as tired to begin with as a light heart of eighteen can be.  The waiting-woman had received a commission of importance from Lady Angleby (nothing less than to find out how much or how little Miss Fairfax knew of Miss Julia Gardiner’s past and present circumstances), and accident favored her execution of it.  A cheerful fire blazed on the hearth in Bessie’s room; by the hearth was drawn up the couch, and a newspaper lay on the couch.  Naturally, Bessie’s first act was to take it up, and when she saw that it was a Hampton Chronicle she exclaimed with pleasure, and asked did Mrs. Betts receive it regularly from her friends?—­if so, she should like to read it, for the sake of knowing what went on in the Forest.

“No, miss, it only comes a time by chance:  that came by this afternoon’s post.  I have barely glanced through it.  I expect it was sent by my cousin to let me know the fine wedding that is on the tapis at Ryde—­Mr. Brotherton, her master, and Miss Julia Gardiner.”

“Miss Julia Gardiner!” exclaimed Bessie in a low, astonished voice.

Mrs. Betts, with an indifference that a more cunning young lady than hers would have felt to be carefully prepared, proceeded with her information:  “Yes, miss; you met the lady, I think?  The gentleman is many years older, but a worthy gentleman.  And she is a most sweet lady, which, where there is children to begin with, is much to be considered.  She has no fortune, but there is oceans of money on his side—­oceans.”

Bessie did not jump to the conclusion that it was therefore a mercenary marriage, as she had done in another case.  She forgot, for the moment, her interest in the Forest news, and though she seemed to be contemplating her beautiful dress for the evening laid out upon the bed, the pensive abstraction of her gaze implied profounder thoughts.  Mrs. Betts busied herself with various little matters—­sewed on faster the rosette of a white shoe, and the buttons on the gloves that were to be worn with that foam of silvery tulle.  What Bessie was musing of she could not herself have told; a confused sensation of pain and pity was uppermost at first.  Mrs. Betts stood at a distance and with her back to her young mistress, but she commanded her face in the glass, and saw it overspread slowly by a warm soft blush, and the next moment she was asked, “Do you think she will be happy, Mrs. Betts?”

“We may trust so, miss,” said the waiting-woman, still feigning to be fully occupied with her duties to her young lady’s pretty things.  “Why should she not?  She is old enough to know her mind, and will have everything that heart can desire—­won’t she?”