“Here lies on either side, the remains of each of his former wives.”

Those of a third have found a resting-place close by, behind him.

It seemed to me that Mr. Bunner’s young man in search of Arcady might look for it here with as good a chance of being satisfied as anywhere I can think of.  But I suppose that men and women and especially boys, would prove to be a good deal like the rest of the world, if one lived here long enough to learn all about them.  One thing I can safely say,—­an English man or boy never goes anywhere without his fists.  I saw a boy of ten or twelve years, whose pleasant face attracted my attention.  I said to the rector, “That is a fine-looking little fellow, and I should think an intelligent and amiable kind of boy.”  “Yes,” he said, “yes; he can strike from the shoulder pretty well, too.  I had to stop him the other day, indulging in that exercise.”  Well, I said to myself, we have not yet reached the heaven on earth which I was fancying might be embosomed in this peaceful-looking hollow.  Youthful angels can hardly be in the habit of striking from the shoulder.  But the well-known phrase, belonging to the pugilist rather than to the priest, brought me back from the ideal world into which my imagination had wandered.

Our week at Brighton was passed in a very quiet but most enjoyable way.  It could not be otherwise with such a host and hostess, always arranging everything with reference to our well-being and in accordance with our wishes.  I became very fond of the esplanade, such a public walk as I never saw anything to compare with.  In these tranquil days, and long, honest nights of sleep, the fatigues of what we had been through were forgotten, the scales showed that we were becoming less ethereal every day, and we were ready for another move.

We bade good-by to our hosts with the most grateful and the warmest feeling towards them, after a month of delightful companionship and the experience of a hospitality almost too generous to accept, but which they were pleased to look upon as if we were doing them a favor.

On the 29th of July we found ourselves once more in London.

VI.

We found our old quarters all ready and awaiting us.  Mrs. Mackellar’s motherly smile, Sam’s civil bow, and the rosy cheeks of many-buttoned Robert made us feel at home as soon as we crossed the threshold.

The dissolution of Parliament had brought “the season” abruptly to an end.  London was empty.  There were three or four millions of people in it, but the great houses were for the most part left without occupants except their liveried guardians.  We kept as quiet as possible, to avoid all engagements.  For now we were in London for London itself, to do shopping, to see sights, to be our own master and mistress, and to live as independent a life as we possibly could.