“He is better than Sedley Archfield, be he what he will, madam,” said the girl.  “He never pays those compliments, those insolent disgusting compliments, such as he—­that Sedley, I mean—­when he found me alone in the hall, and I had to keep him at bay from trying to kiss me, only Mr. Archfield—­Charley—­came down the stairs before he was aware, and called out, ’I will thank you to behave yourself to a lady in my father’s house.’  And then he, Sedley, sneered ’The Parson’s niece!’ with such a laugh, mother, I shall never get it out of my ears.  As if I were not as well born as he!”

“That is not quite the way to take it, my child.  I had rather you stood on your maidenly dignity and discretion than on your birth.  I trust he will soon be away.”

“I fear he will not, mamma, for I heard say the troop are coming down to be under the Duke of Berwick at Portsmouth.”

“Then, dear daughter, it is the less mishap that you should be thus closely confined by loving attendance on me.  Now, goodnight.  Compose yourself to sleep, and think no more of these troubles.”

Nevertheless mother and daughter lay long awake, side by side, that night; the daughter in all the flutter of nerves induced by offended yet flattered feeling—­hating the compliment, yet feeling that it was a compliment to the features that she was beginning to value.  She was substantially a good, well-principled maiden, modest and discreet, with much dignified reserve, yet it was impossible that she should not have seen heads turned to look at her in Portsmouth, and know that she was admired above her contemporaries, so that even if it brought her inconvenience it was agreeable.  Besides, her heart was beating with pity for the Archfields.  The elder ones might have only themselves to blame, but it was very hard for poor Charles to have been blindly coupled to a being who did not know how to value him, still harder that there should be blame for a confidence where neither meant any harm—­blame that made her blush on her pillow with indignant shame.

Perhaps Mrs. Woodford divined these thoughts, for she too meditated deeply on the perils of her fair young daughter, and in the morning could not leave her room.  In the course of the day she heard that Master Peregrine Oakshott had been to inquire for her, and was not surprised when her brother-in-law sought an interview with her.  The gulf between the hierarchy and squirearchy was sufficient for a marriage to be thought a mesalliance, and it was with a smile at the folly as well as with a certain displeased pity that Dr. Woodford mentioned the proposal so vehemently pressed upon him by Peregrine Oakshott for his niece’s hand.

“Poor boy!” said Mrs. Woodford, “it is a great misfortune.  You forbade him of course to speak of such a thing.”

“I told him that I could not imagine how he could think us capable of entertaining any such proposal without his father’s consent.  He seems to have hoped that to pledge himself to us might extort sanction from his father, not seeing that it would be a highly improper measure, and would only incense the Major.”