“Bologna is a most interesting city.  He would be well amused there,” said my lady.  “It has a learned society, and is full of antiquities and pictures.  It is in the midst of a magnificent country too.  I spent a month there once with Lord Latimer, and we found the drives in the vicinity unparalleled.  You cannot do better than go to Bologna.  Take your yacht round to one of the Adriatic ports—­to Venice.  I can supply you with guide-books.  I perceive that Mr. Harry Musgrave must be well entertained.  A Ryde wherry with you in the morning is the perfection of entertainment, but he has an evident relish for sound masculine discourse in the evening:  we must not be too exacting.”

Bessie colored slightly and laughed.  “I don’t think that I am very exacting,” she said.  “I am sure whatever Harry likes he shall do, for me.  I know he wants the converse of men; he classes it with fine scenery and fresh air as one of the three delights that he most inclines to, since hard work is forbidden him.  Bologna will be better than Arcachon for the winter.”

“Yes, if the climate be suitable.  We must find out what the climate is, or you may alter your plans again.  I have not heard yet when the great event is to take place—­when you are to be married.”

“My father thinks that Harry should avoid the late autumn in the Forest—­the fall of the leaf,” Bessie began with rosy diffidence.

“But you have made no preparations?  And there are the settlements!” exclaimed Lady Latimer, anxiously.

“Our preparations are going on.  My uncle Laurence and Mr. Carnegie will be our trustees; they have consulted Harry, I know, and the settlements are in progress.  Oh, there will be no difficulty.”

“But the wedding will be at Abbotsmead, since Mr. Laurence Fairfax gives his countenance?” Lady Latimer suggested interrogatively.

Bessie’s blush deepened:  “No.  I have promised Harry that it shall be at Beechhurst, and very quiet.  Therefore when we return to the Forest I shall have to ask you to leave me at the doctor’s house.”

Lady Latimer was silent and astonished.  Then she said with emphasis:  “Elizabeth, I cannot approve of that plan.  If you will not go to Abbotsmead, why not be married from Fairfield?  I shall be glad to render you every assistance.”

“You are very, very kind, but Harry would not like it,” pleaded Bessie.

“You are too indulgent, Elizabeth.  Harry would not like it, indeed!  Why should he have everything his own way?”

“Oh, Lady Latimer, I am sure you would not have the heart to cross him yourself!” cried Bessie.

My lady looked up at her sharply, but Elizabeth’s face was quite serious:  “He has rallied wonderfully during the week—­rallied both his strength and his spirits.  It is fortunate he has that buoyancy.  Every girl loves a gay wedding.”

“It would be peculiarly distasteful to Harry under the circumstances, and I would not give him pain for the world,” Bessie said warmly.