“You must not be so tumultuous, Oswald, or I shall have to live in a whirlwind.”

“Oh, I shall shake down.  I shall become as steady as an old stager.  I’ll go as quiet in harness by-and-by as though I had been broken to it a four-year-old.  I wonder whether Laura could not write this letter.”

“I think you should write it yourself, Oswald.”

“If you bid me I will.”

“Bid you indeed!  As if it was for me to bid you.  Do you not know that in these new troubles you are undertaking you will have to bid me in everything, and that I shall be bound to do your bidding?  Does it not seem to be dreadful?  My wonder is that any girl can ever accept any man.”

“But you have accepted me now.”

“Yes, indeed.”

“And you repent?”

“No, indeed, and I will try to do your biddings;—­but you must not be rough to me, and outrageous, and fierce,—­will you, Oswald?”

“I will not at any rate be like Kennedy is with poor Laura.”

“No;—­that is not your nature.”

“I will do my best, dearest.  And you may at any rate be sure of this, that I will love you always.  So much good of myself, if it be good, I can say.”

“It is very good,” she answered; “the best of all good words.  And now I must go.  And as you are leaving Loughlinter I will say good-bye.  When am I to have the honour and felicity of beholding your lordship again?”

“Say a nice word to me before I am off, Violet.”

“I,—­love,—­you,—­better,—­than all the world beside; and I mean,—­to be your wife,—­some day.  Are not those twenty nice words?”

He would not prolong his stay at Loughlinter, though he was asked to do so both by Violet and his sister, and though, as he confessed himself, he had no special business elsewhere.  “It is no use mincing the matter.  I don’t like Kennedy, and I don’t like being in his house,” he said to Violet.  And then he promised that there should be a party got up at Saulsby before the winter was over.  His plan was to stop that night at Carlisle, and write to his father from thence.  “Your blood, perhaps, won’t be so tumultuous at Carlisle,” said Violet.  He shook his head and went on with his plans.  He would then go on to London and down to Willingford, and there wait for his father’s answer.  “There is no reason why I should lose more of the hunting than necessary.”  “Pray don’t lose a day for me,” said Violet.  As soon as he heard from his father, he would do his father’s bidding.  “You will go to Saulsby,” said Violet; “you can hunt at Saulsby, you know.”

“I will go to Jericho if he asks me, only you will have to go with me.”  “I thought we were to go to,—­Belgium,” said Violet.

“And so that is settled at last,” said Violet to Laura that night.

“I hope you do not regret it.”

“On the contrary, I am as happy as the moments are long.”

“My fine girl!”