In the course of the day, goodnatured, fat Sir Gilbert Brewster, the
colonel of the yeomanry, who had been seriously uneasy at his looks,
and had tried to send him home, rode over to inquire for him,
complimenting him on being 'thorough game to the last.' Louis relieved
his mind by apologies for his blunders, whereupon he learnt that his
good colonel had never discovered them, and now only laughed at them,
and declared that they were mere trifles to what the whole corps,
officers and men, committed whenever they met, and no one cared except
one old sergeant who had been in the Light Dragoons. Louis's very
repentance for them was another piece of absurdity. He smiled, indeed,
but seemed to give himself up as a hopeless subject. His spirits
flagged as they had not done throughout his illness, and, unwell,
languid, and depressed, he spent his days without an attempt to rally.
He was only too conscious of his own inconsistency, but he had not
energy enough to resume any of the habits that Mary had so diligently
nursed, neglected even his cottage-building, would not trouble himself
to consider the carpenter's questions, forgot messages, put off
engagements, and seemed to have only just vigour enough to be
desultory, tease James, and spoil Clara.

Lord Ormersfield became alarmed, and called in doctors, who recommended
sea air, and James suggested a secluded village on the Yorkshire coast,
where some friends had been reading in the last long vacation. This
was to be the break-up of the party; Mrs. Frost and the two Marys would
resort to Dynevor Terrace, Clara would return to school, and James
undertook the charge of Louis, who took such exceedingly little heed to
the arrangements, that Jem indignantly told him that he cared neither
for himself nor anybody else.

CHAPTER XI.

A HALTING PROPOSAL.

Shallow. Will you upon good dowry, marry her?
Slender. I will do a greater thing than that, upon your request.
Merry Wives of Windsor.

The first thing that Louis did appear to care for was a letter that
arrived about three days previous to their departure, addressed to
'Lord Fitsgosling, Hawmsfield Park, Northwold.' Rather too personal,
as he observed, he must tell his correspondent that it hurt his
feelings. The correspondent was Tom Madison, whose orthography lagged
behind his other attainments, if his account might be trusted of 'they
lectures on Kemistry.' His penmanship