with; wasting some superfluous pity and contempt on
the weary weight that was inflicted on the Grange.

"What do you think of me?" said Margaret, one afternoon. "I have had Mr.
George Rivers here for two hours."

"Alone! what could bring him here?"

"I told him that every one was out, but he chose to sit down, and seemed
to be waiting."

"How could you get on?"

"Oh! we asked a few questions, and brought out remarks, with great
difficulty, at long intervals. He asked me if lying here was not a great
nuisance, and, at last, he grew tired of twisting his moustache, and
went away."

"I trust it was a call to take leave."

"No, he thinks he shall sell out, for the army is a great nuisance."

"You seem to have got into his confidence."

"Yes, he said he wanted to settle down, but living with one's father was
such a nuisance."

"By the bye," cried Ethel, laughing, "Margaret, it strikes me that this
is a Dumbiedikes' courtship!"

"Of yourself?" said Margaret slyly.

"No, of Flora. You know, she has often met him at the Grange and
other places, and she does contrive to amuse him, and make him almost
animated. I should not think he found her a great nuisance."

"Poor man! I am sorry for him!" said Margaret.

"Oh! rejection will be very good for him, and give him something to
think of."

"Flora will never let it come to that," said Margaret. "But not one word
about it, Ethel!"

Margaret and Etheldred kept their eyes open, and sometimes imagined,
sometimes laughed at themselves for their speculations, and so October
began; and Ethel laughed, as she questioned whether the Grange would
feel the Hussar's return to his quarters, as much as home would the
departure of their scholar for Balliol.

CHAPTER VI.

So, Lady Flora, take my lay,
And if you find a meaning there,
Oh! whisper to your glass, and say,
What wonder, if he thinks me fair.--Tennyson.

Flora and Norman were dining with one of their county acquaintance, and
Dr. May had undertaken to admit them on their return. The fire shone red
and bright, as it sank calmly away, and the timepiece and clock on the
stairs had begun their nightly duet of ticking, the crickets chirped in
the kitchen, and the doctor sat alone. His book lay with unturned pages,
as he sat musing, with eyes fixed on the fire, living over again his own
life, the easy bright days of his youth, when, without much pains on his
own part, the tendencies o