t he had put it in a
delicate manner. Whether he heard the last of it for the rest of his
visit may be imagined. And, poor boy, though he was strong and spirited
enough with his own contemporaries, there was no dealing with the
full-fledged soldier. Nor, when conversation turned to what 'we' did at
Hiltonbury, was it possible always to disclaim standing in the same
relation to the Holt as did Charles to Castle Blanch; nay, a certain
importance seemed to attach to such an assumption of dignity, of which
Owen was not loth to avail himself in his disregarded condition.

PART II

CHAPTER I

We hold our greyhound in our hand,
Our falcon on our glove;
But where shall we find leash or band
For dame that loves to rove?--SCOTT

A June evening shed a slanting light over the greensward of Hiltonbury
Holt, and made the western windows glisten like diamonds, as Honora
Charlecote slowly walked homewards to her solitary evening meal, alone,
except for the nearly blind old pointer who laid his grizzled muzzle upon
her knees, gazing wistfully into her face, as seating herself upon the
step of the sun-dial, she fondled his smooth, depressed black head.

'Poor Ponto!' she said, 'we are grown old together. Our young ones are
all gone.'

Grown old? Less old in proportion than Ponto--still in full vigour of
mind and body, but old in disenchantment, and not without the traces of
her forty-seven years. The auburn hair was still in rich masses of curl;
only on close inspection were silver threads to be detected; the cheek
was paler, the brow worn, and the gravely handsome dress was chosen to
suit the representative of the Charlecotes, not with regard to lingering
youthfulness. The slow movement, subdued tone, and downcast eye, had an
air of habitual dejection and patience, as though disappointment had gone
deeper, or solitude were telling more on the spirits, than any past blow
had done.

She saw the preparations for her tea going on within the window, but ere
going indoors, she took out and re-read two letters.

The first was in the irregular decided characters affected by young
ladies in the reaction from their grandmothers' pointed illegibilities,
and bore a scroll at the top, with the word 'Cilly,' in old English
letters of bright blue.

'Lowndes Square, June 14th.

'MY DEAR HONOR,--Many thanks for wishing for your will-o'-th'-wisp
ag