When the carriage was driven away, Sir Anthony and Captain Aylmer were left standing alone at the ball door of the house. The servants had slunk off, and the father and son, looking at each other, felt that they also must slink away, or else have some words together on the subject of their guest’s departure. The younger gentleman would have preferred that there should be no words, but Sir Anthony was curious to know something of what had passed in the house during the last few days. ‘I’m afraid things are not going quite comfortable,’ he said.

‘It seems to me, sir,’ said his son, ‘that things very seldom do go quite comfortable.’

‘But, Fred what is it all about? Your mother says that Miss Amedroz is behaving very badly.’

‘And Miss Amedroz says that my mother is behaving very badly.’

‘Of course that’s only natural. And what do you say?’

‘I say nothing, sir. The less said the soonest mended.’

‘That’s all very well; but it seems to me that you, in your position, must say something. The long and the short of it is this. Is she to be your wife?’

‘Upon my word, sir, I don’t know.’

They were still standing out under the portico, and as Sir Anthony did not for a minute or two ask any further questions, Captain Aylmer turned as though he were going into the house. But his father had still a word or two to say. Stop a moment, Fred. I don’t often trouble you with advice.’

‘I’m sure I’m always glad to hear it when you offer any.’

‘I know very well that in most things your opinion is better than mine. You’ve had advantages which I never had. But I’ve had more experience than you, my dear boy. It stands to reason that in some things I must have had more experience than you.’ There was a tone of melancholy in the father’s voice as he said this which quite touched his son, and which brought the two closer together out in the porch. ‘Take my word for it,’ continued Sir Anthony, ‘that you are much better off as you are than you could be with a wife.’

‘Do you mean to say that no man should marry?’

‘No I don’t mean to say that. An eldest son ought to marry, so that the property may have an heir. And poor men should marry, I suppose, as they want wives to do for them. And sometimes, no doubt, a man must marry when he has got to be very fond of a girl, and has compromised himself, and all that kind of thing. I would never advise any man to sully his honour.’ As Sir Anthony said this he raised himself a little with his two sticks and spoke out in a bolder voice. The voice however, sank again as he descended from the realms of honour to those of prudence. ‘But none of these cases are yours, Fred. To be sure you’ll have the Perivale property; but that is not a family estate, and you’ll be much better off by turning it into money. And in the way of comfort, you can be a great deal more comfortable without a wife than you can with one. What do you want a wife for? And then, as to Miss Amedroz for myself I must say that I like her uncommonly. She has been very pleasant in her ways with me. But somehow or another, I don’t think you are so much in love with her but what you can do without her.’ Hereupon he paused and looked his son full in the face. Fred had also been thinking of the matter in his own way, and asking himself the same question whether he was in truth so much in love with Clara that he could not live without her. ‘Of course I don’t know,’ continued Sir Anthony, ‘ what has taken place just now between you and her, or what between her and your mother; but I suppose the whole thing might fall through without any further trouble to you or without anything unhandsome on your part?’ But Captain Aylmer still said nothing. The whole thing might, no doubt, fall through, but he wished to be neither unjust nor ungenerous and he specially wished to avoid anything unhandsome. After a further pause of a few minutes, Sir Anthony went on again, pouring forth the words of experience. ‘Of course marriage is all very well. I married rather early in life, and have always found your mother to be a most excellent woman. A better woman doesn’t breathe. I’m as sure of that as I am of anything. But God bless me of course you can see. I can’t call anything my own. I’m tied down here and I can’t move. I’ve never got a shilling to spend, while all these lazy hounds about the place are eating me up. There isn’t a clerk with a hundred a year in London that isn’t better off than I am as regards ready money. And what comfort have I in a big house, and no end of gardens, and a place like this? What pleasures do I get out of it? That comes of marrying and keeping up one’s name in the county respectably! What do I care for the county? D the county! I often wish that I’d been a younger son as you are.’

Captain Aylmer had no answer to make to all this. It was, no doubt, the fact that age and good living had made Sir Anthony altogether incapable of enjoying the kind of life which he desiderated, and that he would probably have eaten and drunk himself into his grave long since had that kind of life been within his reach. This, however, the son could not explain to the father. But in fitting, as he endeavoured to do, his father’s words to his own case, Captain Aylmer did perceive that a bachelor’s life might perhaps be the most suitable to his own peculiar case. Only he would do nothing unhandsome. As to that he was quite resolved. Of course Clara must show herself to be in some degree amenable to reason and to the ordinary rules of the world; but he was aware that his mother was hot. tempered, and he generously made up his mind that he would give Miss Amedroz even yet another chance.

At the hotel in London Clara found a short note from Mrs Askerton, in which she was warmly assured that everything should be done to make her comfortable at the cottage as long as she should wish to stay there. But the very warmth of affection thus expressed made her almost shrink from what she was about to do. Mrs Askerton was no doubt anxious for her coming; but would her Cousin Will Belton approve of the visit; and what would her Cousin Mary say about it? If she was being driven into this step against her own approval, by the insolence of Lady Aylmer if she was doing this thing simply because Lady Aylmer had desired her not to do it, and was doing it in opposition to the wishes of the man she had promised to marry as well as to her own judgment, there could not but be cause for shrinking. And yet she believed that she was right. If she could only have had some one to tell her some one in whom she could trust implicitly to direct her! She had hitherto been very much prone to rebel against authority. Against her aunt she had rebelled, and against her father, and against her lover. But now she wished with all her heart that there might be some one to whom she could submit with perfect faith. If she could only know what her Cousin Will would think. In him she thought she could have trusted with that perfect faith if only he would have been a brother to her.

But it was too late now for doubting, and on the next day she found herself getting out of the old Redicote fly, at Colonel Askerton’s door. He came out to meet her, and his greeting was very friendly. Hitherto there had been no great intimacy between him and her, owing rather to the manner of life adopted by him than to any cause of mutual dislike between them. Mrs Askerton had shown herself desirous of some social intercourse since she had been at Belton, but with Colonel Askerton there had been nothing of this. He had come there intending to live alone, and had been satisfied to carry out his purpose. But now Clara had come to his house as a guest, and he assumed towards her altogether a new manner. ‘We are so glad to have you,’ he said, taking both her hands. Then she passed on into the cottage, and in a minute was in her friend’s arms.

‘Dear Clara dearest Clara, I am so glad to have you here.’

‘It is very good of you.’

‘No, dear; the goodness is with you to come. But we won’t quarrel about that. We will both be ever so good. And he is so happy that you should be here. You’ll get to know him now. But come upstairs. There’s a fire in your room, and I’ll be your maid for the occasion because then we can talk.’ Clara did as she was bid and went upstairs; and as she sat over the fire while her friend knelt beside her for Mrs Askerton was given to such kneelings she could not but tell herself that Belton Cottage was much more comfortable than Aylmer Park. During the whole time of her sojourn at Aylmer Park no word of real friendship had once greeted her ears. Everything there had been cold and formal, till coldness and formality had given way to violent insolence.

‘And so you have quarrelled with her ladyship,’ said Mrs Askerton. ‘I knew you would.’

‘I have not said anything about quarrelling with her.’

‘But of course you have. Come, now; don’t make yourself disagreeable. You have had a downright battle have you not?’

‘Something very like it, I’m afraid.’

‘I am so glad,’ said Mrs Askerton, rubbing her hands.

‘That is ill-natured.’

‘Very well. Let it be ill-natured. One isn’t to be good-natured all round, or what would be the use of it? And what sort of a woman is she?’

‘Oh dear; I couldn’t describe her. She is very large, and wears a great wig, and manages everything herself, and I’ve no doubt she’s a very good woman in her own way.’

‘I can see her at once and a very pillar of virtue as regards morality and going to church. Poor me! Does she know that you have come here?’

‘I have no doubt she does. I did not tell her, nor would I tell her daughter; but I told Captain Aylmer.’

‘That was right. That was very right. I’m so glad of that. But who would doubt that you would show a groper spirit? And what did he say?’

‘Not much, indeed.’

‘I won’t trouble you about him. I don’t in the least doubt but all that will come right. And what sort of man is Sir Anthony?’

‘A common-place sort of a man; very gouty, and with none of his wife’s strength. I liked him the best of them all.’

‘Because you saw the least of him, I suppose.’

‘He was kind in his manner to me.’

‘And they were like she-dragons. I understand it all, and can see them just as though I had been there. I felt that I knew what would come of it when you first told me that you were going to Aylmer Park, I did, indeed. I could have prophesied it all.’

‘What a pity you did not.’

‘It would have done no good and your going there has done good. It has opened your eyes to more than one thing, I don’t doubt. But tell me have you told them in Norfolk that you were coming here?’

‘No I have not written to my cousin.’

‘Don’t be angry with me if I tell you something. I have.’

‘Have what?’

‘I have told Mr Belton that you were coming here. It was in this way. I had to write to him about our continuing in the cottage. Colonel Askerton always makes me write if it’s possible, and of course we were obliged to settle something as to the place.’

‘I’m sorry you said anything about me.’

‘How could I help it? What would you have thought of me, or what would he have thought, if, when writing to him, I had not mentioned such a thing as your visit? Besides, it’s much better that he should know.’

‘I am sorry that you said anything about it.’

‘You are ashamed that he should know that you are here,’ said Mrs Askerton, in a tone of reproach.

‘Ashamed! No; I am not ashamed. But I would sooner that he had not been told as yet. Of course he would have been told before long.’

‘But you are not angry with me?’

‘Angry! How can I be angry with any one who is so kind to me?’

That evening passed by very pleasantly, and when she went again to her own room, Clara was almost surprised to find how completely she was at home. On the next day she and Mrs Askerton together went up to the house, and roamed through all the rooms, and Clara seated herself in all the accustomed chairs. On the sofa, just in the spot to which Belton had thrown it, she found the key of the cellar. She took it up in her band, thinking that she would give it to the servant; but again she put it back upon the sofa. It was his key, and he had left it there, and if ever there came an occasion she would remind him where he had put it. Then they went out to the cow, who was at her ease in a little home paddock.

‘Dear Bessy,’ said Clara, ‘see how well she knows me.’ But I think the tame little beast would have known any one else as well who had gone up to her as Clara did, with food in her hand. ‘She is quite as sacred as any cow that ever was worshipped among the cow-worshippers,’ said Mrs Askerton. I suppose they milk her and sell the butter, but otherwise she is not regarded as an ordinary cow at all.’ ‘Poor Bessy,’ said Clara. ‘I wish she had never come here. What is to be done with her?’ ‘Done with her! She’ll stay here till she dies a natural death, and then a romantic pair of mourners will follow her to her grave, mixing their sympathetic tears comfortably as they talk of the old days; and in future years, Bessy will grow to be a divinity of the past, never to be mentioned without tenderest reminiscences. I have not the slightest difficulty in prophesying as to Bessy’s future life and posthumous honours.’ They roamed about the place the whole morning, through the garden and round the farm buildings, and in and out of the house; and at every turn something was said about Will Belton. But Clara would not go up to the rocks, although Mrs Askerton more than once attempted to turn in that direction. He had said that he never would go there again except under certain circumstances. She knew that those circumstances would never come to pass; but yet neither would she go there. She would never go there till her cousin was married. Then, if in those days she should ever be present at Belton Castle, she would creep up to the spot all alone, and allow herself to think of the old days.

On the following morning there came to her a letter bearing the Downham post-mark but at the first glance she knew that it was not from her Cousin Will. Will wrote with a bold round hand, that was extremely plain and caligraphic when he allowed him. self time for the work in hand, as he did with the commencement of his epistles, but which would become confused and al............