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"It wouldn't be I--it would be you. It would frighten them to think



that you should absorb his lordship's young affections."

Bessie Alden, with her clear eyes still overshadowed by her dark brows,



continued to interrogate. "Why should that frighten them?"

Mrs. Westgate poised her answer with a smile before delivering it.



"Because they think you are not good enough. You are a charming girl,

beautiful and amiable, intelligent and clever, and as bien-elevee



as it is possible to be; but you are not a fit match for Lord Lambeth."

Bessie Alden was decidedly disgusted. "Where do you get such extraordinary



ideas?" she asked. "You have said some such strange things lately.

My dear Kitty, where do you collect them?"



Kitty was evidently enamored of her idea. "Yes, it would

put them on pins and needles, and it wouldn't hurt you.



Mr. Beaumont is already most uneasy; I could soon see that."

The young girl meditated a moment. "Do you mean that they spy upon him--



that they interfere with him?"

"I don't know what power they have to interfere, but I know



that a British mama may worry her son's life out."

It has been intimated that, as regards certain disagreeable things,



Bessie Alden had a fund of skepticism. She abstained on the present occasion

from expressing disbelief, for she wished not to irritate her sister.



But she said to herself that Kitty had been misinformed--that this

was a traveler's tale. Though she was a girl of a lively imagination,



there could in the nature of things be, to her sense, no reality in

the idea of her belonging to a vulgarcategory. What she said aloud was,



"I must say that in that case I am very sorry for Lord Lambeth."

Mrs. Westgate, more and more exhilarated by her scheme, was smiling



at her again. "If I could only believe it was safe!" she exclaimed.

"When you begin to pity him, I, on my side, am afraid."



"Afraid of what?"

"Of your pitying him too much."



Bessie Alden turned away impatiently; but at the end of a minute she

turned back. "What if I should pity him too much?" she asked.



Mrs. Westgate hereupon turned away, but after a moment's

reflection she also faced her sister again. "It would come,



after all, to the same thing," she said.

Lord Lambeth came the next day with his trap, and the two ladies,



attended by Willie Woodley, placed themselves under his guidance,

and were conveyed eastward, through some of the duskier portions



of the metropolis, to the great turreted donjon which overlooks

the London shipping. They all descended from their vehicle and



entered the famous inclosure; and they secured the services of a

venerable beefeater, who, though there were many other claimants for



legendary information, made a fine exclusive party of them and marched

them through courts and corridors, through armories and prisons.



He delivered his usual peripatetic discourse, and they stopped and stared,

and peeped and stooped, according to the official admonitions.



Bessie Alden asked the old man in the crimsondoublet a great

many questions; she thought it a most fascinating place.



Lord Lambeth was in high good humor; he was constantly laughing;

he enjoyed what he would have called the lark. Willie Woodley kept



looking at the ceilings and tapping the walls with the knuckle

of a pearl-gray glove; and Mrs. Westgate, asking at frequent



intervals to be allowed to sit down and wait till they came back,

was as frequently informed that they would never come back.



To a great many of Bessie's questions--chiefly on collateral

points of English history--the ancient warder was naturally



unable to reply; whereupon she always appealed to Lord Lambeth.

But his lordship was very ignorant. He declared that he knew nothing



about that sort of thing, and he seemed greatly diverted at being

treated as an authority.



"You can't expect everyone to know as much as you," he said.

"I should expect you to know a great deal more," declared Bessie Alden.



"Women always know more than men about names and dates

and that sort of thing," Lord Lambeth rejoined.



"There was Lady Jane Grey we have just been hearing about,

who went in for Latin and Greek and all the learning of her age."



"YOU have no right to be ignorant, at all events," said Bessie.

"Why haven't I as good a right as anyone else?"



"Because you have lived in the midst of all these things."

"What things do you mean? Axes, and blocks, and thumbscrews?"



"All these historical things. You belong to a historical family."

"Bessie is really too historical," said Mrs. Westgate,



catching a word of this dialogue.




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