’PS.—­I told mamma what you said about Mary Thorne, and she said, “Yes; I suppose all the world knows it now; and if all the world did know it, it makes no difference to Frank.”  She seemed very angry; so you see it was true.’

Though, by so doing, we shall somewhat anticipate the end of our story, it may be desirable that the full tale of Mr Gazebee’s loves should be told here.  When Mary is breaking her heart on her death-bed in the last chapter, or otherwise accomplishing her destiny, we shall hardly find a fit opportunity of saying much about Mr Gazebee and his aristocratic bride.

For he did succeed at last in obtaining a bride in whose veins ran the noble De Courcy blood, in spite of the high doctrine preached so eloquently by the Lady Amelia.  As Augusta had truly said, he had failed to understand her.  He was led to think, by her manner of receiving his first proposal—­and justly so, enough—­that she liked him, and would accept him; and he was therefore rather perplexed by his second interview.  He tried again and again, and begged permission to mention the matter to Mr Gresham; but Augusta was very firm, and he at last retired in disgust.  Augusta went to Courcy Castle, and received from her cousin that consolation and re-strengthening which she so much required.

Four years afterwards—­long after the fate of Mary Thorne had fallen, like a thunderbolt, on the inhabitants of Greshamsbury; when Beatrice was preparing for her second baby, and each of the twins had her accepted lover—­Mr Mortimer Gazebee went down to Courcy Castle; of course, on a matter of business.  No doubt he dined at the table, and all that.  We have the word of Lady Amelia, that the earl, with his usual good-nature, allowed him such privileges.  Let us hope that he never encroached on them.

But on this occasion, Mr Gazebee stayed a long time at the castle, and singular rumours as to the cause of his prolonged visit became current in the little town.  No female scion of the present family of Courcy had, as yet, found a mate.  We may imagine that eagles find it difficult to pair when they become scarce in their localities; and we all know how hard it has sometimes been to get comme il faut husbands when there has been any number of Protestant princesses on hand.

Some little difficulty had, doubtless, brought it about that the countess was still surrounded by her full bevy of maidens.  Rank has its responsibilities as well as its privileges, and these young ladies’ responsibilities seemed to have consisted in rejecting any suitor who may have hitherto kneeled to them.  But now it was told through Courcy, that one suitor had kneeled, and not in vain; from Courcy the rumour flew to Barchester, and thence came down to Greshamsbury, startling the inhabitants, and making one poor heart throb with a violence that would have been piteous had it been known.  The suitor, so named, as Mr Mortimer Gazebee.

Yes; Mr Mortimer Gazebee had now awarded to him many other privileges than those of dining at the table, and all that.  He rode with the young ladies in the park, and they all talked to him very familiarly before company; all except Lady Amelia.  The countess even called him Mortimer, and treated him quite as one of the family.