Waiting for a moment to let the gentlemen get by on the way to the study, we, accordingly, went down, and I heard the Rector talk of the dangerous state of Grindleston bridge, and wondered how he could think of such things at a time of sorrow.  Everything about those few minutes of suspense remains fresh in my recollection.  I remember how they loitered and came to a halt at the corner of the oak passage leading to the study, and how the Rector patted the marble head and smoothed the inflexible tresses of William Pitt, as he listened to Mr. Danvers’ details about the presentment; and then, as they went on, I recollect the boisterous nose-blowing that suddenly resounded from the passage, and which I then referred, and still refer, intuitively to the Rector.

We had not been five minutes in the drawing-room when Branston entered, to say that the gentlemen I had mentioned were all assembled in the study.

‘Come, dear,’ said Cousin Monica; and leaning on her arm I reached the study door.  I entered, followed by her.  The gentlemen arrested their talk and stood up, those who were sitting, and the Rector came forward very gravely, and in low tones, and very kindly, greeted me.  There was nothing emotional in this salutation, for though my father never quarrelled, yet an immense distance separated him from all his neighbours, and I do not think there lived a human being who knew him at more than perhaps a point or two of his character.

Considering how entirely he secluded himself, my father was, as many people living remember, wonderfully popular in his county.  He was neighbourly in everything except in seeing company and mixing in society.  He had magnificent shooting, of which he was extremely liberal.  He kept a pack of hounds at Dollerton, with which all his side of the county hunted through the season.  He never refused any claim upon his purse which had the slightest show of reason.  He subscribed to every fund, social, charitable, sporting, agricultural, no matter what, provided the honest people of his county took an interest in it, and always with a princely hand; and although he shut himself up, no one could say that he was inaccessible, for he devoted hours daily to answering letters, and his checque-book contributed largely in those replies.  He had taken his turn long ago as High Sheriff; so there was an end of that claim before his oddity and shyness had quite secluded him.  He refused the Lord-Lieutenancy of his county; he declined every post of personal distinction connected with it.  He could write an able as well as a genial letter when he pleased; and his appearances at public meetings, dinners, and so forth were made in this epistolary fashion, and, when occasion presented, by magnificent contributions from his purse.