fully made up his mind on the subject of a widow. I
rejoiced that Mrs Coutts was already disposed of. He talked a long time
of jointures, three per cents, India stock; and I--O youth! O hope!--I
mused all the time on the beautiful eyes and sweet smiles of my unknown
enchantress, and made pious resolutions to betake myself, like some
ancient anchorite, to the Wilderness, for the purpose of worship and
meditation.

CHAPTER III.

Lucy Ashton was under the tree--Amy, like a sensible child, busily
employed at a little distance gathering flowers; the sun shining, the
bees humming, the birds chirruping.

"You made me wretched all yesterday," I said.

"Indeed! had the worthy Caleb no device to cheer the young master's
solitude?"

"Impossible, even for Caleb's ingenuity, to supply the want of society
as he contrives to hide the absence of silver plate. Ah, why did you not
come?"

"I don't recollect having promised to expose poor Amy again to the
assaults of a wild boar."

"Or yourself to the conversation of a person like me."

"Oh! I have told you, over and over again, I am delighted to have seen
you; and I like your conversation amazingly: you are very different
indeed from what I expected."

"In Heaven's name, what did you expect?" I said. "Who ever spoke of me
to you, that knew me?"

"Nobody that knew you; but you are a good deal spoken of,
notwithstanding. I was curious to see if they were correct."

"And what did they say? I will endeavour to correct them if they are
mistaken."

"They said you and your father moped so continually in the old house,
that you had grown (like Quasimodo) to have a resemblance to brick and
mortar yourselves. I expect to see you like a gable-end, with a couple
of mullioned windows for eyes, and a mouth. I was astonished to see you
so nearly human."

"Ah! you will humanize me still more if you laugh at me as you do; do
take pity on me, and don't let me settle down into a wall."

"With all my heart, for I have no turn for architecture; and, by all the
descriptions I hear of the old court, you don't seem to be Palladios."

"There may be other reasons besides a want of skill and inclination," I
said, with a sad feeling of the anti-architectural condition of our
exchequer.

"Oh! you mean poverty. Then, why don't you sell the old place?"

"It would kill my father to think of it."

"But it would not have so dreadful an effect on you? I know you could
get it sold if you like."