Bessie's feet lagged as if leaden weights were tied to them, and her
conscious air as she glanced in the face of the stranger who had
addressed her before set at rest any remaining doubt of who she was.

"Are you Elizabeth Fairfax who lives with Mrs. Carnegie?" he asked in an
abrupt voice--the more abrupt and loud for a certain nervousness and
agitation that arose in him at the sight of the child.

"Yes, sir, I am," replied Bessie, like a veritable echo of himself.

"Then, as we are travelling the same road, you will be our guide, eh?"

"The children are little; they cannot keep pace with men on horseback,"
said Bessie. They were a mile and a half from Beechhurst yet. Mr. John
Short spoke hastily in an endeavor to promote an understanding, and
blundered worse than his client: his suggestion was that they might each
take up one of the bairns; but the expression of Bessie's eyes was a
reminder that she might not please to trudge at their bridle, though the
little and weak ones were to be carried.

"You are considering who is to take you up?" hazarded Mr. Fairfax.

Bessie recovered her countenance and said, as she would have said to any
other strangers on horseback who might have invited her to be their
guide on foot, "You cannot miss the way. It lies straight before you for
nearly a mile over the heath; then you will come to cross-roads and a
guide-post. You will be at Beechhurst long before we shall."

The gentlemen accepted their dismissal and rode on. Was Bessie mollified
at all by the mechanical courtesy with which their hats were lifted at