I'm not kept awake o' nights by the
fear of losing you, Timothy. Your serviceable old carcass'll hang
together for a good while yet."--Then his rough eyebrows drew into a
line and he stared thoughtfully down the long space of the clean gravel
road under the meeting branches of the lime trees.

The Whitney _char a bancs_ had driven off but a few minutes later, to
the admiration of all beholders; yet not, it must be admitted, without
a measure of inward perturbation on the part of that noble charioteer,
Lord Fallowfeild. Her Ladyship was constitutionally timid, and he was
none too sure of the behaviour of his leaders in face of the string of
very miscellaneous vehicles waiting to take up. However, the
illustrious party happily got off without any occasion for Lady
Fallowfeild's screaming. Then the ardour of departure became universal,
and in broken procession the many carriages, phaetons, gigs, traps,
pony-chaises streamed away from Brockhurst House, north, south, east
and west.

Lady Calmady had bidden her guests farewell at the side-door opening on
to the terrace, before they passed through the house to the main
entrance in the south front. Last to go, as he had been first to come,
was that worthy person, Thomas Caryll, the rector of Sandyfield. Mild,
white-haired, deficient in chin, he had a natural leaning towards women
in general, and towards those of the upper classes in particular.
Katherine Calmady's radiant youth, her courtesy, her undeniable air of
distinction, and a certain gracious gaiety which belonged to her, had,
combined with unaccustomed indulgence in claret cup, gone far to turn
the good man's head during the afternoon. Regardless of the slightly
flustered remonstrances of his wife and daughters, he lingered,
expending himself in innocently confused compliment, supplemented by
prophecies regarding the blessings destined to descend upon Brockhurst
and the mother parish of Sandyfield in virtue of Lady Calmady's advent.

But at length he also was gone. Katherine waited, her eyes full of
laughter, until Mr. Caryll's footsteps died away on the stone quarries
of the great hall within. Then she gently drew the heavy door to, and
stepped out on to the centre of the terrace. The grass slopes of the
park--dotted with thorn trees and beds of bracken,--the lime avenue
running along the ridge of the hill, the ragged edge of the fir forest
to the east, and the mass of the house, all these were softened to a
vaguene