kind old ladies, Miss Juliana and Miss Charlotte Smith, were very good in coming to see her, and always indulged her in a talk of Lady Latimer and Fairfield; Miss Burleigh visited her occasionally for a day, but Lady Angleby kept out of the shadow on principle—­she could not bear to see it lengthening.  She enjoyed life very much, and would not be reminded of death if she could help it.  Her nephew spent Christmas at Norminster, and paid more than one visit to Abbotsmead.  Miss Fairfax was as glad as ever to see him.  He came like a breath of fresh air from the living outer world, and made no pretensions to what he knew she had not to give.  The engagement between Miss Julia Gardiner and Mr. Brotherton had fallen through, for some reason that was never fully explained, and Miss Burleigh began to think her dear brother would marry poor Julia after all.

Another of Bessie’s pleasures was a day in Minster Court.  One evening she brought home a photograph of the three boys, and the old squire put on his spectacles to look at it.  She had ceased to urge reconciliation, but she still hoped for it earnestly; and it came in time, but not at all as she expected.  One day—­it was in the early spring—­she was called to her grandfather’s room, and there she found Mr. John Short sitting in council and looking exceedingly discontented.  The table was strewn with parchments and papers, and she was invited to take a seat in front of the confusion.  Then an abrupt question was put to her:  Would she prefer to have settled upon her the Abbey Lodge, which Colonel Stokes now occupied as a yearly tenant, or a certain house in the suburbs of Norminster going out towards Brentwood?

“In what event?” she asked, coloring confusedly.

“In the event of my death or your own establishment in life,” said her grandfather.  “Your uncle Laurence will bring his family here, and I do not imagine that you will choose to be one with them long; you will prefer a home of your own.”

The wave of color passed from Bessie’s face.  “Dear grandpapa, don’t talk of such remote events; it is time enough to think of changes and decide when the time comes,” said she.

“That is no answer, Elizabeth.  Prudent people make their arrangements in anticipation of changes, and their will in anticipation of death.  Speak plainly:  do you like the lodge as a residence, or the vicinity of Norminster?”

“Dear grandpapa, if you were no longer here I should go home to the Forest,” Bessie said, and grew very pale.

The old squire neither moved nor spoke for several minutes.  He stared out of the window, then he glanced at the lawyer and said, “You hear, Short? now you will be convinced.  She has not taken root enough to care to live here any longer.  She will go back to the Forest; all this time she has been in exile, and cut off from those whom alone she loves.  Why should I keep her waiting at Abbotsmead for a release that may be slow to come?  Go now, Elizabeth, go now, if to stay wearies you;” and he waved her to the door imperatively.