“Out upon these proud scions of nobility, I have not common patience with the younger members of the aristocracy, taking holy orders solely for the sake of aggrandizing the elder branches of the family; they are rarely actuated by pious motives.”

“We had only one service a-day till Mr. Barclay came, and now he officiates morning and evening, besides managing to do duty, in the afternoon, for a sick clergyman, who lives five miles off, and has a large family, two of whom our worthy curate educates,—­”

“No more,” Ethelind, or my heart will be irrecoverably gone; but what large house is that I see among the trees?”

“That is Eardly House.”

“And do the family ever reside there?”

“They have not, since we have been in this part of the world, but when in England, I am told, they spend part of every summer here.”

“And if they come, they will spoil both our pleasure and our privacy; say what you will, great people are a nuisance in a small village.”

“To those who are situated like us, I grant it is unpleasant, but they may do a great deal of good to their poor tenants.  But, hark, it is striking two,—­our dinner hour,—­mamma will wonder what is become of us; there is a short cut through the Park, which we will take, it will save, at least, a quarter of a mile.”  So through the Park they went, and as they left it, to cross the road, a gentleman suddenly turned the corner, and Mr. Barclay stood full before them.

“Why, Mr. Barclay,” exclaimed Ethelind, “where, in the name of wonder, did you come from? did you rise from the lake, or drop from the clouds?  I thought you were many miles away.”

“And so I expected to be,” said he, shaking hands with her, and bowing to Beatrice, “but circumstances wholly unexpected, compelled me to return.”

“And are you going to remain?”

“For some months, I believe.”

“I am really glad to hear it, and so, I am sure, will mamma be; but in the agreeable surprise your unlooked for return gave, I forgot to introduce Miss Trevor.”  The conversation now took a general turn, and Mr. Barclay accompanied them to their door, where he only staid to shake hands with Mrs. Fortescue, and then took his leave, promising to return in the evening.

As may naturally be supposed, many weeks followed of delightful intercourse; Mr. Barclay, when ever it did not interfere with his duties, was the constant attendant of Ethelind, and Beatrice; he spent every evening at Mrs. Fortescue’s cottage, affording much speculation to the village gossips, as to which of the two young ladies would ultimately become the curate’s choice.  With their aid he carried out his much cherished object of establishing a Sunday School, and everything was going on quietly, till, at length, an unusual bustle was observed in the village; artizans of every description were sent from London, and the news was soon spread, that after the necessary repairs and preparations were completed, the family might be expected.