sence
you may pay a visit to Staningley, if you like: your uncle and aunt have
long been wanting us to go there, you know; but somehow there's such a
repulsion between the good lady and me, that I never could bring myself
up to the scratch.'

About the third week in August, Arthur set out for Scotland, and Mr.
Hargrave accompanied him thither, to my private satisfaction. Shortly
after, I, with little Arthur and Rachel, went to Staningley, my dear old
home, which, as well as my dear old friends its inhabitants, I saw again
with mingled feelings of pleasure and pain so intimately blended that I
could scarcely distinguish the one from the other, or tell to which to
attribute the various tears, and smiles, and sighs awakened by those old
familiar scenes, and tones, and faces.

Arthur did not come home till several weeks after my return to Grassdale;
but I did not feel so anxious about him now; to think of him engaged in
active sports among the wild hills of Scotland, was very different from
knowing him to be immersed amid the corruptions and temptations of
London. His letters now; though neither long nor loverlike, were more
regular than ever they had been before; and when he did return, to my
great joy, instead of being worse than when he went, he was more cheerful
and vigorous, and better in every respect. Since that time I have had
little cause to complain. He still has an unfortunate predilection for
the pleasures of the table, against which I have to struggle and watch;
but he has begun to notice his boy, and that is an increasing source of
amusement to him within-doors, while his fox-hunting and coursing are a
sufficient occupation for him without, when the ground is not hardened by
frost; so that he is not wholly dependent on me for entertainment. But
it is now January; spring is approaching; and, I repeat, I dread the
consequences of its arrival. That sweet season, I once so joyously
welcomed as the time of hope and gladness, awakens now far other
anticipations by its return.

CHAPTER XXXI

March 20th, 1824. The dreaded time is come, and Arthur is gone, as I
expected. This time he announced it his intention to make but a short
stay in London, and pass over to the Continent, where he should probably
stay a few weeks; but I shall not expect him till after the lapse of many
weeks: I now know that, with him, days signify weeks, and weeks months.

July 30th.--He returned about three weeks ago, rather