a month ago. Give you a year amongst your grandees, and you will hold
yourself above us all."

Tears filled Bessie's eyes. She was very much hurt; she did not believe
that Harry could have misunderstood her so. "I shall never hold myself
above anybody that I was fond of when I was little; they are more likely
to forget me when I am out of sight. They have others to love." Bessie
spoke in haste and excitement. She meant neither to defend herself nor
to complain, but her voice imported a little pathos and tragedy into the
scene. Young Musgrave instantly repented and offered atonement.
"Besides," Bessie rather inconsequently ran on, "I am very fond of Lady
Latimer; she has nobody of her own, so she tries to make a family in the
world at large."

"All right, Bessie--then she shall adopt you. Only don't be cross,
little goosey. Let us go into the garden." Young Musgrave made such a
burlesque of his remorse that Bessie, wounded but skin-deep, was fain to
laugh too and be friends again. And thereupon they went forth together
into the bosky old garden.

What a pleasant wilderness that old garden was, even in its neglected
beauty! Whoever planted it loved open spaces, turf, and trees of foreign
race; for there were some rare cedars, full-grown, straight, and
stately, with feathered branches sweeping the grass, and strange shrubs
that were masses of blossom and fountains of sweet odors. The
flower-borders had run to waste; only a few impoverished roses tossed
their blushing fragrance into the air, and a few low-growing,
old-fashioned things made shift to live amongst the weeds. But the
prettiest bit of all was the verdant natural slope, below which ran the
brook that gave the village and the manor their names. The Forest is not