ctive and deductive. At Ashpound the desolation was subjective and
inductive, a plague-spot within; and although the flush of decay was
visible, Gervase would struggle against it to the last. He would make an
effort to preserve the pleasant, rambling, mellow brick house, most of
it one-storied and draped with jessamine and clematis as old as the
building; the belt of ash-trees round the ferny dells of the little
park; and the whitewashed offices, in excellent repair; the well cared
for cattle and poultry-yard; the amply-stocked, flourishing gardens; the
pretty gardener's house and lodge--the prettiest things about the place,
as his father had left them to him. To the last Gervase would aim at
keeping up the place, to his mother's drawing-room, his father's study,
Miles's pantry and cellar, even the modern housekeeper's room, and the
maids' gallery, in comfort and pleasantness. Only his own
rooms--dining-room, smoking-room, bedroom--had been suffered to show
traces of many a brawl and fray. It was as if he had deemed anything
good enough for a scapegrace and beast like him, and thought to pay the
whole price in his own person. It would not be with his will if any
other person, high or low, contributed to his heavy forfeits. And
Gervase Norgate's servants, new as well as old, had a pitiful liking
for him, a remorseful regard for his interests, even when these clashed
with their own. So when Gervase had removed the traces, repaired the
damages, and taken the decisive step of forbidding the inroads of his
evil associates, Mrs. Gervase Norgate found a peaceful,
prosperous-seeming, as well as fair, country home awaiting her.

Neither did Mrs. Gervase Norgate droop or mope; she was alive to every
advantage, alert to improve every opportunity. Frankly she praised the
house at Ashpound, which she had formerly known at the distance of
common acquaintanceship, but now knew in the nearness of home, from
garret to cellar. "What a well-seasoned, kindly dwelling you have here,
Gervase. How I like the windows opening down to the floors, the creeping
plants, the hall window-seats, and the attics with their pigeon-hole
bureaux." She made herself familiar with its details, and she flattered
its old occupants with the extent of her intimacy and appreciation. She
did not let the grass grow beneath her feet in learning and acquiring
its owner's habits. Early rising had been one of the good old country
habits which had stuck to Gervase. And no