in this large country house, full of unexpected impressions for
him. On the wide staircases he stopped, tense with sensations of
space, order, and ample life. He was impressed by the timely meals,
conducted by well-trained servants; and he found it pleasant to pass
from the house into the richly-planted garden, and to see the
coachman washing the carriage, the groom scraping out the horse's
hooves, the horse tied to the high wall, the cowman stumping about
the rick-yard--indeed all the homely work always in progress.

Sometimes he did not come down to lunch, and continued his work till
late in the afternoon. At five he had tea in the drawing-room with
Mrs. Norton, and afterwards went out to gather flowers in the garden
with her, or he walked around the house with John, listening to his
plans for the architectural reformation of his residence.

Mike had now been a month at Thornby Place. He was enchanted with
this country-side, and seeing it lent itself to his pleasure--in
other words, that it was necessary to his state of mind--he strove,
and with insidious inveiglements, to win it, to cajole it, to make it
part and parcel of himself. But its people were reserved.
Instinctively Mike attacked the line and the point of least
resistance, and the point of least resistance lay about three miles
distant. A young squire--a young man of large property and an
unimpeachable position in the county--lived there in a handsome house
with his three sisters. His life consisted in rabbit-shooting and
riding out every morning to see his sheep upon the downs. He was the
rare man who does not desire himself other than he is. But content,
though an unmixed blessing to its possessor, is not an attractive
quality, and Mr. Dallas stood sorely in need of a friend. He loved
his sisters, but to spend every evening in their society was
monotonous, and he felt, and they felt still more keenly, that a nice
young man would create an interest that at present was wanting in
country life. Mike had heard of this young squire and his sisters,
and had long desired to meet him. But they had paid their yearly
visit to Thornby Place, and he could not persuade John to go to Holly
Park.

One day riding on the downs, Mike inquired the way to Henfield of a
young man who passed him riding a bay horse. The question was
answered curtly--so curtly that Mike thought the stranger could not
be led into conversation. In this he was mistaken, and at the end of
half a