“Brother,” said Mrs. Wilson, “you would oblige me greatly by asking his lordship to waive ceremony; his visits to Bolton castle will probably be frequent, now we have peace; and the owner is so much from home that we may never see him without some such invitation.”

“Do you want him as a husband for Emily?” cried John, as he gaily seated himself by the side of his sister.

Mrs. Wilson smiled at an observation which reminded her of one of her romantic wishes; and as she raised her head to reply in the same tone, met the eye of Denbigh fixed on her with an expression that kept her silent.  This is really an incomprehensible young man in some respects, thought the cautious widow, his startling looks on the introduction to the colonel crossing her mind at the same time; and observing the doctor opening the door that led to the baronet’s library, Mrs. Wilson, who generally acted as soon as she had decided, followed him.  As their conversations were known often to relate to the little offices of charity in which they both delighted, the movement excited no surprise, and she entered the library with the doctor uninterrupted.

“Doctor,” said Mrs. Wilson, impatient to proceed to the point, “you know my maxim, prevention is better than cure, This young friend of yours is very interesting.”

“Do you feel yourself in danger?” said the rector, smiling.

“Not very imminent,” replied the lady, laughing good-naturedly.  Seating herself, she continued, “Who is he? and who was his father, if I may ask?”

“George Denbigh, madam, both father and son,” said the doctor, gravely.

“Ah, doctor, I am almost tempted to wish Frank had been a girl.  You know what I wish to learn.”

“Put your questions in order, dear madam,” said the doctor, in a kind manner, “and they shall be answered.”

“His principles?”

“So far as I can learn, they are good.  His acts, as they have come to my notice, are highly meritorious, and I hope they originated in proper motives.  I have seen but little of him of late years, however, and on this head you are nearly as good a judge as myself.  His filial piety,” said the doctor, dashing a tear from his eye, and speaking with fervor, “was lovely.”

“His temper—­his disposition?”

“His temper is under great command, although naturally ardent; his disposition eminently benevolent towards his fellow-creatures.”

“His connexions?”

“Suitable,” said the doctor, gravely.

His fortune was of but little moment.  Emily would be amply provided, for all the customary necessaries of her station; and, thanking the divine, Mrs. Wilson returned to the parlor, easy in mind, and determined to let things take their own course for a time, but in no degree to relax the vigilance of her observation.