Bessie was in the garden, the following afternoon, with scissors and an apron pinned up, trimming her flowers, yet with her mind away from the plants; she was unhappy on her own account, yet strove after resignation, and she felt the consciousness of having done right in sacrificing herself for her father. He must now behave more kindly towards her; be more ready to listen to her intercession for poor Anthony. Poor Anthony! she had heard that morning that he was gone, gone to extreme risk, and that Urith was in danger. She had resolved that now she must go to Willsworthy and see her sister-in-law, and be of what use to her she could. Her father could no longer forbid that. Even if he did, in that she would not obey him. She was stooping over her plants, with tears in her eyes, snipping, picking off dead flowers and leaves, and tying up the carnations, when she heard behind her the voice of Fox. "What!--busy?" She winced, but rose, and with a little hesitation, held out her hand to him. "Yes," she said, "I must do something with my hands to keep my thoughts from resting on troubles." "Troubles! what troubles?" Bessie gave him a look of reproach. "I must feel anxious about my brother, and also for Urith. How is it that you did not go as well as your father and my Anthony, to draw a sword for the good cause?" "You ask that? Why, you are my attraction. I cannot leave you to venture my precious life in crack-brain undertakings. Before either of them returns, I suppose we shall be married." "I am ready to fulfil my promise at any time," said Bessie. "The sooner the better. Your father has already sent a messenger for a licence. I shall not rest till you are mine." Bessie knew that what Fox desired was to have his foot in Hall, and be established there in the position of heir, and that his pretence of caring for her was hollow. A colour came into her cheeks like the carnations she was tying up. "Enough of that," she said; "you know the conditions on which I take you?" "Conditions! On my soul I know of none." "I told you that I did not love you, that I never had felt any love for you." "You had the frankness to inform me of that, and to say that you had thrown your heart away on some one else, who declined the gift altogether." Bessie bowed her head over her flowers. "Yes, you told me that as we walked in the mud on the road; and then you refused me, but changed your mind before many hours had passed. I have no doubt that, when I am your husband, you will learn to love and admire me. However, this is no condition." "No condition?" asked Bessie, rising, and looking him in the face. "Surely it is. I will take you, as you insist on it, and as my father desires it; but it must be on the understanding that you do not ask of me at once what is not in my power to give, I will try to love you, I promise you. I will strive with my whole heart to give you all I undertake; but I cannot do that at once."