John was right.  The Earl of Bolton had, unsolicited, given him the desired living of his own parish; and Francis was at the moment pressing the blushing Clara to fix the day that was to put a period to his long probation.  Clara, who had not a particle of coquetry about her, promised to be his as soon as he was inducted, an event that was to take place the following week; and then followed those delightful little arrangements and plans with which youthful hope is so fond of filling up the void of life.

“Doctor,” said John, as he came out of the rectory to assist Clara from the gig, “the parson here is a careful driver; see, he has not turned a hair.”

He kissed the burning cheek of his sister as she touched the ground, and whispered significantly.

“You need tell me nothing, my dear—­I know all—­I consent.”

Mrs. Ives folded her future daughter to her bosom; and the benevolent smile of the good rector, together with the kind and affectionate manner of her sisters, assured Clara the approaching nuptials were anticipated, as a matter of course.  Colonel Egerton offered his compliments to Francis on his preferment to the living, with the polish of high breeding, and not without an appearance of interest; and Emily thought him for the first time as handsome as he was generally reputed to be.  The ladies undertook to say something civil in their turn, and John put the captain, by a hint, on the same track.

“You are quite lucky, sir,” said the captain, “in getting so good a living with so little trouble; I wish you joy of it with all my heart:  Mr. Moseley tells me it is a capital thing now for a gentleman of your profession.  For my part.  I prefer a scarlet coat to a black one, but there must be parsons you know, or how should we get married or say grace?”

Francis thanked him for his good wishes, and Egerton paid a handsome compliment to the liberality of the earl; “he doubted not he found that gratification which always attends a disinterested act;” and Jane applauded the sentiment with a smile.

The baronet, when he was made acquainted with the situation of affairs, promised Francis that no unnecessary delay should intervene, and the marriage was happily arranged for the following week.  Lady Moseley, when she retired to the drawing-room after dinner, commenced a recital of the ceremony and company to be invited on the occasion.  Etiquette and the decencies of life were not only the forte, but the fault of this lady; and she had gone on to the enumeration of about the fortieth personage in the ceremonials, before Clara found courage to say, that “Mr. Ives and myself both wish to be married at the altar, and to proceed to Bolton Rectory immediately after the ceremony.”  To this her mother warmly objected; and argument and respectful remonstrance had followed each other for some time, before Clara submitted in silence, with difficulty restraining her tears.  This appeal to the better feelings of the mother triumphed; and the love of parade yielded to love of her offspring.  Clara, with a lightened heart, kissed and thanked her, and accompanied by Emily left the room; Jane had risen to follow them, but catching a glimpse of the tilbury of Colonel Egerton she reseated herself.