with a bright and delightful varnish, in a
word, a language under visible sign of decay ... yet how full of dim idea
and evanescent music--a sort of Indian summer, a season of dependency
that looked back on the splendours of Augustan yesterdays--an autumn
forest.'

"Did you ever hear such rubbish, or affectation, whichever you like to
call it? I should like to know what all that's to do with mediaeval
Latin. And then he goes on to complain of the architecture of Stanton
College.... It is, he says, base Tudor of the vilest kind. 'Practical
cookery' he calls it, 'antique sauce, sold by all chemists and grocers.'
Do you know what he means? I don't. And worst news of all, he is, would
you believe it? putting a magnificent thirteen century window into the
chapel, and he wants me to go up to London to make enquiries about
organs. He is prepared to go as far as a thousand pounds. Did you ever
hear of such a thing? Those Jesuits are encouraging him. Of course it
would just suit them if he became a priest; nothing would suit them
better; the whole property would fall into their hands. Now, what I want
you to do, my dear friend, is to go to Stanton College to-morrow, or
next day, as soon as you possibly can, and to talk to John. You must
tell him how unwise it is to spend fifteen hundred pounds in one year,
building organs and putting up windows. His intentions are excellent,
but his estate won't bear such extravagances: and everybody here thinks
he is such a miser. I want you to tell him that he should marry. Just
fancy what a terrible thing it would be if the estate passed away to
distant relatives--to those terrible cousins of ours."

"Very well, Lizzie, I will do what I can. I will go to-morrow. I have
not seen him for five years. The last time he was here I was away. I
don't think it would be a bad notion to suggest that the Jesuits are
after his money, that they are endeavouring to inveigle him into the
priesthood in order that they may get hold of his property."

"No, no; you must not say such a thing. I will not have you say anything
against his religion. I was very wrong to suggest such a thing. I am
sure no such idea ever entered the Jesuits' heads. Perhaps I am wrong to
send you to them.... Now I depend on you not to speak to him on
religious subjects."

CHAPTER II.

Mrs Norton had known William Hare all her life. She was the youngest
daughter, he the youngest son of equal Yorkshire families. Separated by