is eyes.

'Of course not,' I answered: 'why should I? And who besides?'

'Hargrave for one. He will be glad to come, though his own place is so
near, for he has little enough land of his own to shoot over, and we can
extend our depredations into it, if we like; and he is thoroughly
respectable, you know, Helen--quite a lady's man: and I think, Grimsby
for another: he's a decent, quiet fellow enough. You'll not object to
Grimsby?'

'I hate him: but, however, if you wish it, I'll try to endure his
presence for a while.'

'All a prejudice, Helen, a mere woman's antipathy.'

'No; I have solid grounds for my dislike. And is that all?'

'Why, yes, I think so. Hattersley will be too busy billing and cooing,
with his bride to have much time to spare for guns and dogs at present,'
he replied. And that reminds me, that I have had several letters from
Milicent since her marriage, and that she either is, or pretends to be,
quite reconciled to her lot. She professes to have discovered numberless
virtues and perfections in her husband, some of which, I fear, less
partial eyes would fail to distinguish, though they sought them carefully
with tears; and now that she is accustomed to his loud voice, and abrupt,
uncourteous manners, she affirms she finds no difficulty in loving him as
a wife should do, and begs I will burn that letter wherein she spoke so
unadvisedly against him. So that I trust she may yet be happy; but, if
she is, it will be entirely the reward of her own goodness of heart; for
had she chosen to consider herself the victim of fate, or of her mother's
worldly wisdom, she might have been thoroughly miserable; and if, for
duty's sake, she had not made every effort to love her husband, she
would, doubtless, have hated him to the end of her days.

CHAPTER XXVI

Sept. 23rd.--Our guests arrived about three weeks ago. Lord and Lady
Lowborough have now been married above eight months; and I will do the
lady the credit to say that her husband is quite an altered man; his
looks, his spirits, and his temper, are all perceptibly changed for the
better since I last saw him. But there is room for improvement still.
He is not always cheerful, nor always contented, and she often complains
of his ill-humour, which, however, of all persons, she ought to be the
last to accuse him of, as he never displays it against her, except for
such conduct as would provoke a saint. He adores her still, and would go
to the w