sessing something beyond copybook
good or evil, which won our love in life, and will keep their memory
green after death? I did not fall into the error of thinking that
death had hallowed wishes which I had opposed in life; and while
standing by my father's grave, where he lay, after long years, by the
side of the fair girl whom I had called mother, I respected him for
having died without changing his opinion, while recognising no call to
alter mine.

The hall, it appeared, was to be held at my disposal to live in
whenever I so wished, but I was forbidden to let it. A young solicitor
of Yarmouth, working up, as they say, a practice, wrote to me in
confidence, saying that the will was an iniquitous one, and presuming
that I intended to contest its legality. He further informed me that
such work was, singularly enough, a branch of the profession of which
he had made a special study. I replied that persons who presumed
rendered themselves liable to kicks, and heard no more from Yarmouth.

The neighbours were kind enough to offer me advice or hospitality,
according to their nature, neither of which I felt inclined, at that
time, to accept, but made some small return for their good will by
inviting them to extend their shooting over the Hopton preserves,
knowing that my poor old sire would turn in his grave were the birds
allowed to go free.

Among others I received a letter from Isabella Gayerson, conveying the
sympathy of her aged father and mother in my bereavement.

"As for myself," she wrote, "you know, Dick, that no one feels more
keenly for you at this time, and wishes more sincerely that she could
put her sympathy to some practical use. The hall must necessarily be
but a sad and lonely dwelling for you now, and we want you to
recollect that Fairacre is now, as at all times, a second home, where
an affectionate welcome awaits you."

So wrote the subject of our quarrel, and in a like friendly tone I
made reply. Whether Isabella was aware of the part she had played in
my affairs, wiser heads must decide for themselves. If such was the
case, she made no sign, and wrote at intervals letters of a spirit
similar to that displayed in the paragraph above transcribed. On such
affairs, men are but poor prophets in the strange country of a woman's
mind. A small experience of the sex leads me, however, to suggest
that, as a rule, women--ay, and schoolgirls--have a greater knowledge
of such matters of the heart than they are