CHAPTER XXXIV.

A SECOND VISIT.

66

S

ATURDAY evening, and no letter from
Bessie. What can it mean?" soliloquized

Bernard. "Last Monday I returned, and I have not heard anything of her since. She has never kept me so long without a letter. I will just take a walk, and see Mrs. Lester: perhaps she has heard from her daughter."

After the usual greetings, he asked, anxiously,"Have you heard from Bessie at all this week?" "No, indeed," answered Mrs. Lester. "Have not

you?"

Bernard replied in the negative. Mrs. Lester felt rather concerned, especially as Bernard had intimated before that he was afraid the work was too hard for Bessie, and that she did not look nearly so well as when she left home. At length, after further conversation, Bernard said,

"I think I must go and see her again to-morrow.

I cannot bear this suspense, and I feel I cannot wait until Monday; for I am afraid she must be ill, or she would not have delayed writing to us both." You see by this that Bessie's last letter had not yet reached Bernard.

Judge of Bessie's consternation when informed on the Sunday that Mr. St. Vincent had again called to see her. She was not well: the excitement had been too much for her, and she was trying to rest, and be as quiet as possible on this Sunday. But this sudden announcement made her feel worse. She felt she could not see him then, but told the housekeeper to ask him to call again at a certain time, which he did.

Poor Bernard wandered about in a most forlorn

condition. The weather was anything but favourable for so doing. At the appointed time he again presented himself.

In the meantime, Bessie had written a note, wherein she informed him that she had previously sent him a long letter, and she was not pleased at his coming to see her on the Sunday. Oh, Bessie, Bessie, your note is anything but kind: your conduct is indeed harsh, methinks!

Bessie had considered, before writing, whether she should try and see Bernard, but felt she could hardly trust herself. Her courage would fail, she felt sure, if she saw his grief.

Bernard read the note. Could it be from Bessie, -his loving Bessie? You may, perhaps, form some idea of the effect it had upon him, and how wretched he felt, by the following note, written in pencil, hastily, before he left the town,—

"My ever dearest Bessie,

"I am writing this in more agony of spirit than you can possibly imagine. I never intended to have come down here on a Sunday for its own sake; and I am quite sure I never intended to do anything that would be disagreeable to you. My dearest, in your zeal, as I have said before, you do not consider extenuating circumstances. I had not heard from you since I last saw you here. Think, oh, think what weather it was! Would I choose to come if I were not terribly anxious? I went to your mother's last night, and if she had heard from you I should not have come. I left you unwell. You know not the punishment of being unable to see you, and the affliction it is to me; and I know not the consequences. But I hope, dear, you will be better soon. Do not be uneasy about me, dearest. Think of one Sunday on the same ground. How happy I felt! Now how ill and miserable!

"I remain ever yours,

"Though you may not be mine,

"WRETCHED BERNARD."

Bessie could not control her tears. They fell thick and fast over this note, for her conscience seemed to whisper, and she felt that she had behaved, perhaps, more harshly to him than was necessary. "Bernard must think I am indeed cruel, and my heart is aching too; but I want to do what is right." And then she prayed most earnestly that they both might be comforted, and leave their affairs in the hands of One who is too wise to err, and too good to be unkind.

CHAPTER XXXV.

CORRESPONDENCE.

HAT memorable Sunday evening Bernard called on Bessie's friends. He would gladly have been excused doing so, but he had promised to let them know how he found Bessie.

He tried hard to conceal his grief; but her mother knew in a moment that something was amiss, and began to feel alarmed. Bernard, as well as he could, told her of some of the events of

the day. Mrs. Lester was angry and indignant with her daughter for treating him thus, and she tried to comfort him; for this good little sympathizing woman had learnt to love Bernard dearly; and to see him so disconsolate, quite broke her heart. Bernard hastened away: the scene was too much for him. And he thought if he could once be alone again, in his own quiet room, he might become more composed. He was now looking forward anxiously to receive the letter of