brown arch of the eyebrows, and the marble smoothness of the
sloping forehead. Impossible to say that this face was not eminently
handsome; yet, for the majority both of men and women, it was destitute
of charm. Women disliked eyes that seemed to be indolently accepting
admiration instead of rendering it; and men, especially if they had a
tendency to clumsiness in the nose and ankles, were inclined to think
this Antinous in a pig-tail a 'confounded puppy'. I fancy that was
frequently the inward interjection of the Rev. Maynard Gilfil, who was
seated on the opposite side of the dining-table, though Mr. Gilfil's legs
and profile were not at all of a kind to make him peculiarly alive to the
impertinence and frivolity of personal advantages. His healthy open face
and robust limbs were after an excellent pattern for everyday wear, and,
in the opinion of Mr. Bates, the north-country gardener, would have
become regimentals 'a fain saight' better than the 'peaky' features and
slight form of Captain Wybrow, notwithstanding that this young gentleman,
as Sir Christopher's nephew and destined heir, had the strongest
hereditary claim on the gardener's respect, and was undeniably
'clean-limbed'. But alas! human longings are perversely obstinate; and to
the man whose mouth is watering for a peach, it is of no use to offer the
largest vegetable marrow. Mr. Gilfil was not sensitive to Mr. Bates's
opinion, whereas he was sensitive to the opinion of another person, who
by no means shared Mr. Bates's preference.

Who the other person was it would not have required a very keen observer
to guess, from a certain eagerness in Mr. Gilfil's glance as that little
figure in white tripped along the lawn with the cushions. Captain Wybrow,
too, was looking in the same direction, but his handsome face remained
handsome--and nothing more.

'Ah,' said Sir Christopher, looking up from his paper, 'there's my lady.
Ring for coffee, Anthony; we'll go and join her, and the little monkey
Tina shall give us a song.'

The coffee presently appeared, brought not as usual by the footman, in
scarlet and drab, but by the old butler, in threadbare but well-brushed
black, who, as he was placing it on the table, said--'If you please, Sir
Christopher, there's the widow Hartopp a-crying i' the still room, and
begs leave to see your honour.'

'I have given Markham full orders about the widow Hartopp,' said Sir
Christopher, in a sharp decided tone. 'I have nothing to s