longing eyes at the gun in his hand, and the half-frozen compound
of black and red mud on his gaiters; but they were shy, and their enmity
added to their shyness, so that even when he shook hands with them, and
spoke good-naturedly, they did not get beyond a monosyllable.

Mr. and Mrs. Ashford, feeling some compunction for having left him to
his solitude so long, asked him to dinner for one of the ensuing days,
with some idea of getting some one to meet him, and named six o'clock.

'Won't that put you out? Don't you always dine early?' said he. 'If you
would let me, I should like to join you at your tea-time.'

'If you will endure a host of children,' said Mr. Ashford, 'I should
like it of all things,' said Guy. 'I want to make acquaintance very
much,' and he put his hand on Robert's shoulder. 'Besides, I want to
talk to you about the singing, and how we are to get rid of that fiddle
without breaking James Robinson's heart.'

The appointment was made, and Guy went home to his hasty dinner, his
Greek, and a little refreshing return afterwards to the books which had
been the delight of younger days. There was no renewal of the burthen of
despair that had so long haunted his evenings. Employments thickened on
his hands as the days passed on. There was further correspondence about
Coombe Prior and the curate, and consultations with Markham about farmer
Todd, who was as obstinate and troublesome as possible. Guy made Markham
come to Coombe Prior with him, examine and calculate about the cottages,
and fairly take up the subject, though without much apparent chance of
coming to any satisfactory result. A letter came from Mr. Ross, telling
him even more than he had ventured to hope, for it brought a message
from Charles himself. Charles had been delighted to hear of him, and had
begged that he might be told how very sorry he had been not to write;
and how incapable he had been, and still was; but that he hoped Guy
would write to him, and believe him in the same mind. Mr. Ross added an
account of Charles's illness, saying the suffering had been more severe
than usual, and had totally disabled him for many weeks; that they had
since called in a London surgeon, who had given him hope that he might
be better now than ever before, but had prescribed absolute rest for
at least six weeks longer, so that Charles was now flat on his back all
day, beginning to be able to be amused, and very cheerful and patient.

The pleasure of enter