Bessie felt a little nervous as she left the house the next morning, but she tried not to think of herself. Richard was waiting for her on the Parade. One glance at him banished her nervousness; he looked pale and anxious, as though he had not slept, but he made an effort to smile as he held out his hand. "Is there any hope for me, Bessie?" "Yes," she said simply, as she left her hand in his; and Richard needed no further answer. It was a bright, peaceful hour that followed, as they walked side by side, looking at the shining sea and speaking of the dim future that lay before them. "I was afraid you were too good for me, Bessie," Richard said, bye and bye, when he had exhausted his gratitude a little. "Sometimes I used to lose hope. 'She will never care for such a rough fellow,' I often said to myself." "You must not speak against yourself now," returned Bessie shyly. "No, dear, for you have promised to take me just as I am, and that would make any fellow think more of himself. Bessie, you must not mind if my mother is not quite pleased at first; she is an ambitious woman, and her notions are very different from mine." Bessie did not answer for a moment, and her silence seemed to alarm Richard. "She is only my stepmother; I am my own master, Bessie." "Yes, I know," in a low voice. "I was thinking about that last night. I am afraid she will not like it, and it troubles me a little. We are not rich, and----" "What does that matter?" with a touch of impatience. "I thought you were free from that sort of nonsense, Bessie." "It does not matter to us," replied Bessie, with a slight emphasis on the "us" that was exquisite to Richard's ear. "I am only speaking of Mrs. Sefton; but she is not your own mother, and she has never made you happy, and she has no right to prevent you pleasing yourself." "That is spoken like a sensible girl. I must thank you for that speech. Your father said much the same thing to me. 'You are your own master,' he remarked, 'and your stepmother has no right to control your choice; but, knowing her as I do, she will not be pleased.'" "You will tell her as soon as possible, will you not--and Edna, too?" "I will tell them this morning. You must leave everything to me. You shall be subjected to no unpleasantness that I can prevent. And, Bessie, I am going to take you down to Cliffe. I have made my mind up to that." "Very well," she said, with a smile. And it was a new thing for Richard to assert himself and meet with no contradiction; and as he looked at the girl beside him, and met her clear, candid glance, his heart swelled within him for very gratitude. "It is getting late; we must go home now," observed Bessie, wondering a little at his sudden silence. "Yes, we will go home," he replied, rousing himself. "I was just thinking, dear, what life will mean to me when I have you beside me." CHAPTER XXIV. IN THE COOMBE WOODS.