There are not so many people who _do_ talk of Paul now. Most people know
him as Mr. Blackthorn, late school-master at Berryton, where the boys
liked him for his bright and gentle yet very firm ways; the parents, for
getting their children on, and helping them to be steady; and the
clergyman, for being so perfectly to be trusted, so anxious to do right,
and, while efficient and well informed, perfectly humble and free from
conceit. Now he has just got an appointment to Hazleford school, in
another diocese, with a salary of fifty pounds a year; but, as Charles
Hayward would tell you, 'he hasn't got one bit of pride, no more than
when he lived up in the hay-loft.'

There is not long to wait. There is another party getting over the
stile. There is a very fine tall youth first. As Betsey Hardman tells
her mother, 'she never saw such a one for being fine-growed and stately
to look at, since poor Charles King when he wore his best wig.' A very
nice open honest face, and as merry a pair of blue eyes as any in the
parish, does Harold wear, nearly enough to tell you that, if in these six
years it would be too much to say he has never done _anything_ to vex his
mother, yet in the main his heart is in the right place--he is a very
good son, very tender to her, and steady and right-minded.

Whom is he helping over the stile? Oh, that is Mrs. Mowbray's pretty
little maid! a very good young thing, whom she has read with and taught;
and here, lady-like and delicate-looking as ever, is Matilda. Bridemaids
before the bride! that's quite wrong; but the bride has a shy fit, and
would not get over first, and Matilda and Harold are, the one encouraging
her, the other laughing at her; and Mr. Blackthorn turns very red, and
goes down the path to meet her, and she takes his arm, and Harold takes
Lucy, and Mr. Brown Miss King.

Very nice that bride looks, with her hair so glossy under her straw
bonnet trimmed with white, her pretty white shawl, and quiet purple silk
dress, her face rather flushed, but quiet-looking, as if she were growing
more like her mother, with something of her sense and calmness.

How Mr. Blackthorn ever came to ask her that question, nobody can guess,
and Harold believes he does not know himself. However, it got an answer
two years ago, and Mrs. King gave her consent with all her heart, though
she knew Betsey Hardman would talk of picking a husband up out of the
gutter, and that my Lady would look severe, an