Before the tale was told Sir Edward joined them in the rose-bower whither they had retreated, and contributed some general news from Norminster and Abbotsmead and the neighborhood.  Lady Angleby had adopted another niece for spaniel, vice Mrs Forbes promoted to Kirkham vicarage, and her favorite clergyman, Mr. Jones, had been made rural dean; Mrs Stokes had a little girl; Mrs. Chiverton was carrying on a hundred beneficent projects to the Woldshire world’s wonder and admiration:  she had even prevailed against Morte.

“And I believe she would have prevailed had poor Gifford lived; she is a most energetic woman,” Sir Edward said.  Bessie looked up inquiringly.  “Mr. Gifford died of malignant fever last autumn,” Sir Edward told her.  “He went to Morte in pursuit of some incorrigible poacher when fever was raging there, and took it in its most virulent form; his death proved an irresistible argument against the place, and Blagg made a virtue of necessity and razed his hovels.”

Bessie heard further that her uncle Laurence Fairfax had announced the principle that it is unwise for landowners to expect a direct profit from the cottages and gardens of their laboring tenants, and was putting it into practice on the Kirkham estates, to the great comfort and advantage of his dependants.

“My Edward began it,” whispered Dora, not satisfied that her husband should lose the honor that to him belonged.

“Yes,” said Bessie, “I remember what sensible, kind views he always took of his duties and responsibilities.”

“And another thing he has done,” continued the little lady.  “While other men are enclosing every waste roadside scrap they dare, he has thrown open again a large meadow by the river which once upon a time was free to the villagers on the payment of a shilling a head for each cow turned out upon it.  The gardens to the new cottages are planted with fruit trees, and you cannot think what interest is added to the people’s lives when they have to attend to what is pleasant and profitable for themselves.  It cannot be a happy feeling to be always toiling for a master and never for one’s own.  There!  Edward has taken himself off, so I may tell you that there never was anybody so good as he is, so generous and considerate.”

Dora evidently regarded her spouse with serious, old-fashioned devotion and honor.  Bessie smiled.  She could have borne an equal tribute to her dear Harry, and probably if Mrs. Cecil Burleigh had been as effusive as these young folks, she might have done the same; for while they talked in the rose-bower Mr. Cecil Burleigh and his wife came by, she leaning on his arm and looking up and listening as to the words of an oracle.

“Is she not sweet?  What a pity it would have been had those two not married!” said Dora softly, and they passed out of sight.

“Come out and see the roses,” Lady Latimer said to Elizabeth through the window early next morning.  “They are beautiful with the dew upon them.”