een miles when Tupcombe could perceive that the Squire was getting
tired--as weary as he would have been after riding three times the
distance ten years before. However, they reached Bristol without any
mishap, and put up at the Squire's accustomed inn. Dornell almost
immediately proceeded on foot to the inn which Reynard had given as his
address, it being now about four o'clock.

Reynard had already dined--for people dined early then--and he was
staying indoors. He had already received Mrs. Dornell's reply to his
letter; but before acting upon her advice and starting for King's-Hintock
he made up his mind to wait another day, that Betty's father might at
least have time to write to him if so minded. The returned traveller
much desired to obtain the Squire's assent, as well as his wife's, to the
proposed visit to his bride, that nothing might seem harsh or forced in
his method of taking his position as one of the family. But though he
anticipated some sort of objection from his father-in-law, in consequence
of Mrs. Dornell's warning, he was surprised at the announcement of the
Squire in person.

Stephen Reynard formed the completest of possible contrasts to Dornell as
they stood confronting each other in the best parlour of the Bristol
tavern. The Squire, hot-tempered, gouty, impulsive, generous, reckless;
the younger man, pale, tall, sedate, self-possessed--a man of the world,
fully bearing out at least one couplet in his epitaph, still extant in
King's-Hintock church, which places in the inventory of his good
qualities

'Engaging Manners, cultivated Mind,
Adorn'd by Letters, and in Courts refin'd.'

He was at this time about five-and-thirty, though careful living and an
even, unemotional temperament caused him to look much younger than his
years.

Squire Dornell plunged into his errand without much ceremony or preface.

'I am your humble servant, sir,' he said. 'I have read your letter writ
to my wife and myself, and considered that the best way to answer it
would be to do so in person.'

'I am vastly honoured by your visit, sir,' said Mr. Stephen Reynard,
bowing.

'Well, what's done can't be undone,' said Dornell, 'though it was mighty
early, and was no doing of mine. She's your wife; and there's an end
on't. But in brief, sir, she's too young for you to claim yet; we
mustn't reckon by years; we must reckon by nature. She's still a girl;
'tis onpolite of 'ee to come yet; next year will be fu