himself,—­for it amounted nearly to that; that he might hunt there and shoot there and entertain his friends; that the family house in London should be given up to him if he would marry properly; that an income almost without limit should be provided for him, surely it would not have been too much to demand that as a matter of course he should leave the army!  But this had not been done; and now there was an Irish Roman Catholic widow with a daughter, with seal-shooting and a boat and high cliffs right in the young man’s way!  Lady Scroope could not analyse it, but felt all the danger as though it were by instinct.  Partridge and pheasant shooting on a gentleman’s own grounds, and an occasional day’s hunting with the hounds in his own county, were, in Lady Scroope’s estimation, becoming amusements for an English gentleman.  They did not interfere with the exercise of his duties.  She had by no means brought herself to like the yearly raids into Scotland made latterly by sportsmen.  But if Scotch moors and forests were dangerous, what were Irish cliffs!  Deer-stalking was bad in her imagination.  She was almost sure that when men went up to Scotch forests they did not go to church on Sundays.  But the idea of seal-shooting was much more horrible.  And then there was that priest who was the only friend of the widow who had the daughter!

On the morning of the day in which Fred was to reach the Manor, Lady Scroope did speak to her husband.  “Don’t you think, my dear, that something might be done to prevent Fred’s returning to that horrid country?”

“What can we do?”

“I suppose he would wish to oblige you.  You are being very good to him.”

“It is for the old to give, Mary, and for the young to accept.  I do all for him because he is all to me; but what am I to him, that he should sacrifice any pleasure for me?  He can break my heart.  Were I even to quarrel with him, the worst I could do would be to send him to the money-lenders for a year or two.”

“But why should he care about his regiment now?”

“Because his regiment means liberty.”

“And you won’t ask him to give it up?”

“I think not.  If I were to ask him I should expect him to yield, and then I should be disappointed were he to refuse.  I do not wish him to think me a tyrant.”  This was the end of the conversation, for Lady Scroope did not as yet dare to speak to the Earl about the widow and her daughter.  She must now try her skill and eloquence with the young man himself.

The young man arrived and was received with kindest greetings.  Two horses had preceded him, so that he might find himself mounted as soon as he chose after his arrival, and two others were coming.  This was all very well, but his aunt was a little hurt when he declared his purpose of going down to the stables just as she told him that Sophia Mellerby was in the house.  He arrived on the 23rd at 4 P.M., and it had been declared that he was to hunt