Mr. Fairfax bowed solemnly, as not appreciating this catalogue of homely
graces. The doctor looked very stern. He had subdued his mind to the
necessity, but he felt his loss in every fibre of his affections. No
one, except Bessie herself, half understood the sacrifice he was put
upon making, for he loved her as fondly as if she had been his very own;
and he knew that once divided from his household she never would be like
his own again. But her fate was settled, and the next event in her
experience seemed to set a seal upon it.

The day Mr. John Short left the Forest, Beechhurst began to set up its
arches and twine its garlands for the wedding of Lady Latimer's niece.
Bessie made a frantic effort to escape from the bridesmaid's honors that
were thrust upon her, but met with no sympathy except from her father,
and even he did not come to her rescue. He bade her never mind, it would
soon be over. One sensible relief she had in the midst of her fantastic
distress: Harry Musgrave was away, and would not see her in her
preposterous borrowed plumes. He had gone with Mr. Moxon on a week's
excursion to Wells, and would not return until after the wedding. Bessie
was full of anxieties how her dear old comrade would treat her now. She
found some people more distant and respectful, she did not wish that
Harry should be more respectful--that would spoil their intercourse.

Jolly Miss Buff was an immense help, stay, and comfort to her little
friend till through this perplexing ordeal. She was full of harmless
satire. She proposed to give Bessie lessons in manners, and to teach her
the court curtsey. She chuckled over her reluctance to obey commands to
tea at the rectory, and flattered her with a prediction that she would
enjoy the grand day of the wedding at Fairfield. "I know who the
bridesmaids are, and you will be the prettiest of the bunch," she
assured her. "Don't distress yourself: a bridesmaid has nothing to do