“And who is Admiral Croft?” was Sir Walter’s cold suspicious inquiry.

Mr Shepherd answered for his being of a gentleman’s family, and mentioned a place; and Anne, after the little pause which followed, added—­

“He is a rear admiral of the white.  He was in the Trafalgar action, and has been in the East Indies since; he was stationed there, I believe, several years.”

“Then I take it for granted,” observed Sir Walter, “that his face is about as orange as the cuffs and capes of my livery.”

Mr Shepherd hastened to assure him, that Admiral Croft was a very hale, hearty, well-looking man, a little weather-beaten, to be sure, but not much, and quite the gentleman in all his notions and behaviour; not likely to make the smallest difficulty about terms, only wanted a comfortable home, and to get into it as soon as possible; knew he must pay for his convenience; knew what rent a ready-furnished house of that consequence might fetch; should not have been surprised if Sir Walter had asked more; had inquired about the manor; would be glad of the deputation, certainly, but made no great point of it; said he sometimes took out a gun, but never killed; quite the gentleman.

Mr Shepherd was eloquent on the subject; pointing out all the circumstances of the Admiral’s family, which made him peculiarly desirable as a tenant.  He was a married man, and without children; the very state to be wished for.  A house was never taken good care of, Mr Shepherd observed, without a lady:  he did not know, whether furniture might not be in danger of suffering as much where there was no lady, as where there were many children.  A lady, without a family, was the very best preserver of furniture in the world.  He had seen Mrs Croft, too; she was at Taunton with the admiral, and had been present almost all the time they were talking the matter over.

“And a very well-spoken, genteel, shrewd lady, she seemed to be,” continued he; “asked more questions about the house, and terms, and taxes, than the Admiral himself, and seemed more conversant with business; and moreover, Sir Walter, I found she was not quite unconnected in this country, any more than her husband; that is to say, she is sister to a gentleman who did live amongst us once; she told me so herself:  sister to the gentleman who lived a few years back at Monkford.  Bless me! what was his name?  At this moment I cannot recollect his name, though I have heard it so lately.  Penelope, my dear, can you help me to the name of the gentleman who lived at Monkford:  Mrs Croft’s brother?”

But Mrs Clay was talking so eagerly with Miss Elliot, that she did not hear the appeal.

“I have no conception whom you can mean, Shepherd; I remember no gentleman resident at Monkford since the time of old Governor Trent.”

“Bless me! how very odd!  I shall forget my own name soon, I suppose.  A name that I am so very well acquainted with; knew the gentleman so well by sight; seen him a hundred times; came to consult me once, I remember, about a trespass of one of his neighbours; farmer’s man breaking into his orchard; wall torn down; apples stolen; caught in the fact; and afterwards, contrary to my judgement, submitted to an amicable compromise.  Very odd indeed!”