"Bessie is not to come at all," was the answer.

What was that for? He proceeded to an investigation. There was a streak
of lively, strong perversity in Harry Musgrave. Remarks had been passed
on his accompanying Mr. Carnegie when he conveyed Bessie to
school--quite uncalled-for remarks, which had originated at Fairfield
and the rectory. The impertinence of them roused Harry's temper, and,
boy-like, he instantly resolved that if his dear little Bessie was kept
away from home and punished on his account, he would give her meddlesome
friends something to talk about by going to Caen again and seeing her in
spite of them. He made out with clearness enough to satisfy his
conscience that Lady Latimer and Mrs. Wiley gave themselves unnecessary
anxiety about Mr. Fairfax's granddaughter, and that he was perfectly
justified in circumventing their cautious tactics. He did not speak of
his intention to the Carnegies, lest he should meet with a remonstrance
that he would be forced to yield to; but he told his sympathizing mother
that he was going to spend five pounds of his pocket-money in a run
across to Normandy to see Bessie Fairfax. Mrs. Musgrave asked if it was
quite wise, quite kind, for Bessie's sake. He was sure that Bessie would
be glad, and he did not care who was vexed.

Harry Musgrave gave himself no leisure to reconsider the matter, but
went off to Hampton, to Havre, to Caen, with the lightest heart and most
buoyant spirit in the world. He put up at Thunby's, and in the frosty
sunshine of the next morning marched with the airs and sensations of a
lover in mischief to the Rue St. Jean. Louise, that sage portress,
recognized the bold young cousin of the English _belle des belles_, and
announced him to Mademoiselle Adelaide. After a parley Bessie was
permitted to receive him, to go out with him, to be as happy as three
days were long. Harry told her how and why he had come, and Bessie was