instantly diverted to Fairfield and its gracious mistress--that bright
particular star of her childish imagination: "Oh, Harry, have you made
friends with Lady Latimer?" asked she.

"I have not been to her house, because she has never asked me since that
time I despised her commands, but we have a talk when we meet on the
road. Her ladyship loves all manner of information, and is good enough
to take an interest in my progress. I know she takes an interest in it,
because she recollects what I tell her--not like our ascetic parson, who
forgets whether I am at Balliol or Oriel, and whether I came out first
class or fourth in moderations."

"I wish I could meet Lady Latimer on the road or anywhere! Seeing you
makes me long to go home, Harry," said Bessie with a sigh. Harry
protested that she ought to go home, and promised that he would speak
about it--he would go to Fairfield immediately on his return to the
Forest, and beg Lady Latimer to intercede in her behalf. Bessie had a
doubt whether this was a judicious plan, but she did not say so. The
hope of deliverance, once admitted into her mind, overcame all
perplexities.

A little while and the canon came in glowing hot. "_Pouf!_" and he wiped
his rubicund, round visage with a handkerchief as brilliant. Coming
straight from the glare out of doors, he was not aware of the stranger
in the _salon_ till his eyes were used to the gloom. Then madame and
Bessie effected Harry's introduction, and as Harry, with a rare wisdom,
had practised colloquial French, he and the canon were soon acquainted.
Once only had the old man visited England, a visit for ever memorable on
account of the guinea he had paid for his first dinner in London.