Sir Percival is to arrive to-morrow.  He offered, in case we wished to treat him on terms of rigid etiquette, to write and ask our clergyman to grant him the hospitality of the rectory, during the short period of his sojourn at Limmeridge, before the marriage.  Under the circumstances, neither Mr. Fairlie nor I thought it at all necessary for us to trouble ourselves about attending to trifling forms and ceremonies.  In our wild moorland country, and in this great lonely house, we may well claim to be beyond the reach of the trivial conventionalities which hamper people in other places.  I wrote to Sir Percival to thank him for his polite offer, and to beg that he would occupy his old rooms, just as usual, at Limmeridge House.

17th.—­He arrived to-day, looking, as I thought, a little worn and anxious, but still talking and laughing like a man in the best possible spirits.  He brought with him some really beautiful presents in jewellery, which Laura received with her best grace, and, outwardly at least, with perfect self-possession.  The only sign I can detect of the struggle it must cost her to preserve appearances at this trying time, expresses itself in a sudden unwillingness, on her part, ever to be left alone.  Instead of retreating to her own room, as usual, she seems to dread going there.  When I went upstairs to-day, after lunch, to put on my bonnet for a walk, she volunteered to join me, and again, before dinner, she threw the door open between our two rooms, so that we might talk to each other while we were dressing.  “Keep me always doing something,” she said; “keep me always in company with somebody.  Don’t let me think—­that is all I ask now, Marian—­ don’t let me think.”

This sad change in her only increases her attractions for Sir Percival.  He interprets it, I can see, to his own advantage.  There is a feverish flush in her cheeks, a feverish brightness in her eyes, which he welcomes as the return of her beauty and the recovery of her spirits.  She talked to-day at dinner with a gaiety and carelessness so false, so shockingly out of her character, that I secretly longed to silence her and take her away.  Sir Percival’s delight and surprise appeared to be beyond all expression.  The anxiety which I had noticed on his face when he arrived totally disappeared from it, and he looked, even to my eyes, a good ten years younger than he really is.

There can be no doubt—­though some strange perversity prevents me from seeing it myself—­there can be no doubt that Laura’s future husband is a very handsome man.  Regular features form a personal advantage to begin with—­and he has them.  Bright brown eyes, either in man or woman, are a great attraction—­and he has them.  Even baldness, when it is only baldness over the forehead (as in his case), is rather becoming than not in a man, for it heightens the head and adds to the intelligence of the face.  Grace and ease of movement, untiring animation of manner, ready, pliant,