the road in a gig, and had driven him to a farm to show him strings of birds’ eggs and stuffed birds of every English kind, kingfishers, yaffles, black woodpeckers, goat-sucker owls, more mouth than head, with dusty, dark-spotted wings, like moths; all very circumstantial.  Still, in spite of his tea at the farm, and ride back by rail at the gentleman’s expense, the tale seemed fictitious to Laetitia until Crossjay related how that he had stood to salute on the road to the railway, and taken off his cap to Sir Willoughby, and Sir Willoughby had passed him, not noticing him, though the young lady did, and looked back and nodded.  The hue of truth was in that picture.

Strange eclipse, when the hue of truth comes shadowing over our bright ideal planet.  It will not seem the planet’s fault, but truth’s.  Reality is the offender; delusion our treasure that we are robbed of.  Then begins with us the term of wilful delusion, and its necessary accompaniment of the disgust of reality; exhausting the heart much more than patient endurance of starvation.

Hints were dropping about the neighbourhood; the hedgeways twittered, the tree-tops cawed.  Mrs. Mountstuart Jenkinson was loud on the subject:  “Patterne is to have a mistress at last, you say?  But there never was a doubt of his marrying—­he must marry; and, so long as he does not marry a foreign woman, we have no cause to complain.  He met her at Cherriton.  Both were struck at the same moment.  Her father is, I hear, some sort of learned man; money; no land.  No house either, I believe.  People who spend half their time on the Continent.  They are now for a year at Upton Park.  The very girl to settle down and entertain when she does think of settling.  Eighteen, perfect manners; you need not ask if a beauty.  Sir Willoughby will have his dues.  We must teach her to make amends to him—­but don’t listen to Lady Busshe!  He was too young at twenty-three or twenty-four.  No young man is ever jilted; he is allowed to escape.  A young man married is a fire-eater bound over to keep the peace; if he keeps it he worries it.  At thirty-one or thirty-two he is ripe for his command, because he knows how to bend.  And Sir Willoughby is a splendid creature, only wanting a wife to complete him.  For a man like that to go on running about would never do.  Soberly—­no!  It would soon be getting ridiculous.  He has been no worse than other men, probably better—­infinitely more excusable; but now we have him, and it was time we should.  I shall see her and study her, sharply, you may be sure; though I fancy I can rely on his judgement.”

In confirmation of the swelling buzz, the Rev. Dr. Middleton and his daughter paid a flying visit to the Hall, where they were seen only by the members of the Patterne family.  Young Crossjay had a short conversation with Miss Middleton, and ran to the cottage full of her—­she loved the navy and had a merry face.  She had a smile of very pleasant humour according to Vernon.  The young lady was outlined to Laetitia as tall, elegant, lively; and painted as carrying youth like a flag.  With her smile of “very pleasant humour”, she could not but be winning.