Bessie did not attempt any answer to this suggestive query.  She put the newspaper aside, and stretched herself with a sigh along the couch, folding her hands under her cheek on the pillow.  Her eyes grew full of tears, and so she lay, meditating on this new lesson in life, until Mrs. Betts warned her that it was time to dress for dinner.  Miss Fairfax had by this date so far accustomed herself to the usages of young ladies of rank that Mrs. Betts was permitted to assist at her toilette.  It was a silent process this evening, and the penetration of the waiting-woman was at fault when she took furtive glances in the mirror at the subdued face that never smiled once, not even at its own beauty.  She gave Lady Angleby an exact account of what had passed, and added for interpretation, “Miss Fairfax was surprised and sorry, I’m sure.  I should say she believed Miss Julia Gardiner to be attached to somebody else.  The only question she asked was, Did I think she would be happy?” Lady Angleby could extract nothing out of this.

Every one was aware of a change in Bessie when she went into the drawing-room; she felt as one feels who has heard bad news, and must conceal the impression of it.  But the visible effect was that her original shyness seemed to have returned with more than her original pride, and she blushed vividly when Mr. Cecil Burleigh made her a low bow of compliment on her beautiful appearance.  Mr. Fairfax had enriched his granddaughter that day with a suite of fine pearls, once his sister Dorothy’s, and Bessie had not been able to deny herself the ornament of them, shining on her neck and arms.  Her dress was white and bright as sea-foam in sunshine, but her own inimitable blooming freshness made her dress to be scarcely at all regarded.  Every day at this period added something to her loveliness—­the loveliness of youth, health, grace, and a good nature.

When dinner was over the three young people adjourned to the ball-room, leaving Lady Angleby and Mr. Fairfax together.  Miss Burleigh and Bessie began by walking up and down arm-in-arm, then they took a few turns in a waltz, and after that Miss Burleigh said, “Cecil, Miss Fairfax and you are a perfect height to waltz together; try the floor, and I will go and play with the music-room door open.  You will hear very well.”  She went off quickly the moment she had spoken, and Bessie could not refuse to try the floor, but she had a downcast, conscious air under her impromptu partner’s observation.  Mr. Cecil Burleigh was in a gay, light mood, as became him on this public occasion of his election triumph, and he was further elated by Miss Fairfax’s amiable condescension in waltzing with him at his sister’s behest; and as it was certainly a pleasure to any girl who loved waltzing to waltz with him, they went on until the music stopped at the sound of carriage-wheels.

“You are fond of dancing, Miss Fairfax?” said her cavalier.

“Oh yes,” said Bessie with a pretty upward glance.  She had enjoyed that waltz extremely; her natural animation was reviving, too buoyant to lie long under the depression of melancholy, philosophic reverie.