Squire asserted that he had room for another gun, without entailing
any additional expense upon himself. This indeed was not strictly
true, as it had been arranged that the cost should be paid per
gun; but there was a vacancy still, and Ralph the heir, being
quite willing to pay for his cousin, thought no harm to cover his
generosity under a venial falsehood. The disinherited one, however,
declined the offer, with many thanks. "There is nothing, old fellow,
I wouldn't do for you, if I knew how," said the happy heir. Whereupon
the Norfolk Ralph unconsciously resolved that he would accept
nothing,--or as little as possible,--at the hands of the Squire.

All this happened during the three or four first days of his sojourn
in London, in which, he hardly knew why, he had gone neither to the
villa nor to Sir Thomas in Southampton Buildings. He meant to do so,
but from day to day he put it off. As regarded the ladies at the
villa the three young men now never spoke to each other respecting
them. Gregory believed that his brother had failed, and so believing
did not recur to the subject. Gregory himself had already been at
Fulham once or twice since his arrival in town; but had nothing
to say,--or at least did say nothing,--of what happened there. He
intended to remain away from his parish for no more than the parson's
normal thirteen days, and was by no means sure that he would make any
further formal offer. When at the villa he found that Clarissa was
sad and sober, and almost silent; and he knew that something was
wrong. It hardly occurred to him to believe that after all he might
perhaps cure the evil.

One morning, early, Gregory and Ralph from Norfolk were together at
the Royal Academy. Although it was not yet ten when they entered the
gallery, the rooms were already so crowded that it was difficult to
get near the line, and almost impossible either to get into or to
get out of a corner. Gregory had been there before, and knew the
pictures. He also was supposed by his friends to understand something
of the subject; whereas Ralph did not know a Cooke from a Hook, and
possessed no more than a dim idea that Landseer painted all the wild
beasts, and Millais all the little children. "That's a fine picture,"
he said, pointing up at an enormous portrait of the Master of the B.
B., in a red coat, seated square on a seventeen-hand high horse, with
his hat off, and the favourite hounds of his pack around him. "That's
by Grant," s