‘Stop,’ said Temple, ’is the poor old country------  How about continuing
the race of heroes?’

Heriot commended him to rectories, vicarages, and curates’ lodgings for breeding grounds, and coming round to Julia related one of the racy dialogues of her married life.  ’The saltwater widow’s delicious.  Billy rushes home from his ship in a hurry.  What’s this Greg writes me?—­That he ‘s got a friend of his to drink with him, d’ ye mean, William?—­ A friend of yours, ma’am.—­And will you say a friend of mine is not a friend of yours, William?—­Julia, you’re driving me mad!—­And is that far from crazy, where you said I drove you at first sight of me, William?  Back to his ship goes Billy with a song of love and constancy.’

I said nothing of my chagrin at the behaviour of the pair who had furnished my first idea of the romantic beauty of love.

‘Why does she talk twice as Irish as she used to, Heriot?’

’Just to coax the world to let her be as nonsensical as she likes.  She’s awfully dull; she has only her nonsense to amuse her.  I repeat:  soldiers and sailors oughtn’t to marry.  I’m her best friend.  I am, on my honour:  for I ’m going to make Billy give up the service, since he can’t give her up.  There she is!’ he cried out, and waved his hat to a lady on horseback some way down the slope of a road leading to the view of our heathland: 

’There’s the only girl living fit to marry a man and swear she ’ll stick to him through life and death.’

He started at a gallop.  Temple would have gone too at any possible speed, for he knew as well as I did that Janet was the girl alone capable of winning a respectful word from Heriot; but I detained him to talk of Ottilia and my dismal prospect of persuading the squire to consent to my proposal for her, and to dower her in a manner worthy a princess.  He doled out his yes and no to me vacantly.  Janet and Heriot came at a walking pace to meet us, he questioning her, she replying, but a little differently from her usual habit of turning her full face to the speaker.  He was evidently startled, and, to judge from his posture, repeated his question, as one would say, ‘You did this?’ She nodded, and then uttered some rapid words, glanced at him, laughed shyly, and sank her features into repose as we drew near.  She had a deep blush on her face.  I thought it might be, that Janet and her loud champion had come to particular terms, a supposition that touched me with regrets for Temple’s sake.  But Heriot was not looking pleased.  It happened that whatever Janet uttered struck a chord of opposition in me.  She liked the Winter and the Winter sunsets, had hopes of a frost for skating, liked our climate, thought our way of keeping Christmas venerable, rejoiced in dispensing the squire’s bounties—­called them bounties, joined Heriot in abusing foreign countries to the exaltation of her own:  all this with ‘Well, Harry, I’m sorry you don’t think as we do.  And we do, don’t we?’ she addressed him.