and I suppose 'tis as much
as he can expect; but 'tis a strange reverse for him. It is said that
when he's asked out to dine, or to anything in the way of a jaunt, his
eye flies across to hers afore he answers: and if her eye says yes, he
says yes: and if her eye says no, he says no. 'Tis a sad condition for
one who ruled womankind as he, that a woman should lead him in a string
whether he will or no.'

'Sad indeed!'

'She's steward, and agent, and everything. She has got a room called "my
lady's office," and great ledgers and cash-books you never see the like.
In old times there were bailiffs to look after the workfolk, foremen to
look after the tradesmen, a building-steward to look after the foremen, a
land-steward to look after the building-steward, and a dashing grand
agent to look after the land-steward: fine times they had then, I assure
ye. My lady said they were eating out the property like a honeycomb, and
then there was a terrible row. Half of 'em were sent flying; and now
there's only the agent, and the viscountess, and a sort of surveyor man,
and of the three she does most work so 'tis said. She marks the trees to
be felled, settles what horses are to be sold and bought, and is out in
all winds and weathers. There, if somebody hadn't looked into things
'twould soon have been all up with his lordship, he was so very
extravagant. In one sense 'twas lucky for him that she was born in
humble life, because owing to it she knows the ins and outs of
contriving, which he never did.'

'Then a man on the verge of bankruptcy will do better to marry a poor and
sensible wife than a rich and stupid one. Well, here we are at the tenth
milestone. I will walk the remainder of the distance to Knollsea, as
there is ample time for meeting the last steamboat.'

When the man was gone Christopher proceeded slowly on foot down the hill,
and reached that part of the highway at which he had stopped in the cold
November breeze waiting for a woman who never came. He was older now,
and he had ceased to wish that he had not been disappointed. There was
the lodge, and around it were the trees, brilliant in the shining greens
of June. Every twig sustained its bird, and every blossom its bee. The
roadside was not muffled in a garment of dead leaves as it had been then,
and the lodge-gate was not open as it always used to be. He paused to
look through the bars. The drive was well kept and gravelled; the grass
edgings, fo