was in any way above the position which she might naturally hold as daughter of the Dillsborough attorney. But of Reginald Morton’s attributes and scholarship and general standing he had a mystified appreciation which saved him from the pain of thinking that such a man could be in love with his sweetheart. As he certainly did not wish to quarrel with Morton, having always taken Reginald’s side in the family disputes, he thought that he would say a civil word in passing, and, if possible, apologise. When Morton came up he raised his hand to his head and did open his mouth, though not pronouncing any word very clearly. Morton looked at him as grim as death, just raised his hand, and then passed on with a quick step. Larry was displeased; but the other was so thoroughly a gentleman⁠—one of the Mortons, and a man of property in the county⁠—that he didn’t even yet wish to quarrel with him. “What the deuce have I done?” said he to himself as he walked on⁠—“I didn’t tell her not to go up to the house. If I offered to walk with her what was that to him?” It must be remembered that Lawrence Twentyman was twelve years younger than Reginald Morton, and that a man of twenty-eight is apt to regard a man of forty as very much too old for falling in love. It is a mistake which it will take him fully ten years to rectify, and then he will make a similar mistake as to men of fifty. With his awe for Morton’s combined learning and age, it never occurred to him to be jealous.

Morton passed on rapidly, almost feeling that he had been a brute. But what business had the objectionable man to address him? He tried to excuse himself, but yet he felt that he had been a brute⁠—and had so demeaned himself in reference to the daughter of the Dillsborough attorney! He would teach himself to do all he could to promote the marriage. He would give sage advice to Mary Masters as to the wisdom of establishing herself⁠—having not an hour since made up his mind that he would never see her again! He would congratulate the attorney and Mrs. Masters. He would conquer the absurd feeling which at present was making him wretched. He would cultivate some sort of acquaintance with the man, and make the happy pair a wedding present. But, yet, what “a beast” the man was, with that billicock hat on one side of his head, and those tight leather gaiters!

As he passed through the town towards his own house, he saw Mr. Runciman standing in front of the hotel. His road took him up Hobbs gate, by the corner of the Bush; but Runciman came a little out of the way to meet him. “You have heard the news?” said the innkeeper.

“I have heard one piece of news.”

“What’s that, sir?”

“Come⁠—you tell me yours first.”

“The young squire is coming down to Bragton next week.”

“That’s my news too. It is not likely that there should be two matters of interest in Dillsborough on the same day.”

“I don’t know why Dillsborough should be worse off than any other place, Mr. Morton; but at any rate the squire’s coming.”

“So Mrs. Hopkins told me. Has he written to you?”

“His coachman or his groom has; or perhaps he keeps what they call an ekkery. He’s much too big a swell to write to the likes of me. Lord bless me⁠—when I think of it, I wonder how many dozen of orders I’ve had from Lord Rufford under his own hand. ‘Dear Runciman, dinner at eight; ten of us; won’t wait a moment. Yours R.’ I suppose Mr. Morton would think that his lordship had let himself down by anything of that sort?”

“What does my cousin want?”

“Two pair of horses⁠—for a week certain, and perhaps longer, and two carriages. How am I to let anyone have two pair of horses for a week certain⁠—and perhaps longer? What are other customers to do? I can supply a gentleman by the month and buy horses to suit; or I can supply him by the job. But I guess Mr. Morton don’t well know how things are managed in this country. He’ll have to learn.”

“What day does he come?”

“They haven’t told me that yet, Mr. Morton.”

VII

The Walk Home

Mary Masters, when Reginald Morton had turned his back upon her at the bridge, was angry with herself and with him, which was reasonable; and very angry also with Larry Twentyman, which was unreasonable. As she had at once acceded to Morton’s proposal that they should walk round the house together, surely he should not have deserted her so soon. It had not been her fault that the other man had come up. She had not wanted him. But she was aware that when the option had in some sort been left to herself, she had elected to walk back with Larry. She knew her own motives and her own feelings, but neither of the men would understand them. Because she preferred the company of Mr. Morton, and had at the moment feared that her sisters would have deserted her had she followed him, therefore she had declared her purpose of going back to Dillsborough, in doing which she knew that Larry and the girls would accompany her. But of course Mr. Morton would think that she had preferred the company of her recognised admirer. It was pretty well known in Dillsborough that Larry was her lover. Her stepmother had spoken of it very freely; and Larry himself was a man who did not keep his lights hidden under a bushel. “I hope I’ve not been in the way, Mary,” said Mr. Twentyman, as soon as Morton was out of hearing.

“In the way of what?”

“I didn’t think there was any harm in offering to go up to the house with you if you were

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