nd his plans, and Markham and the marriage settlements, and
there were orders to be given about the furniture. He came to Mrs.
Ashford about this, conducted her to the park, and begged her to be so
kind as to be his counsellor, and to superintend the arrangement. He
showed her what was to be Amy's morning-room--now bare and empty, but
with the advantages of a window looking south, upon the green wooded
slope of the park, with a view of the church tower, and of the moors,
which were of very fine form. He owned himself to be profoundly ignorant
about upholstery matters, and his ideas of furniture seemed to consist
in prints for the walls, a piano, a bookcase, and a couch for Charles.

'You have heard about Charles?' said he, raising his bright face from
the list of needful articles which he was writing, using the window-seat
as a table.

'Not much,' said Mrs. Ashford. 'Is he entirely confined to the sofa?'

'He cannot move without crutches; but no one could guess what he is
without seeing him. He is so patient, his spirits never flag; and it is
beautiful to see how considerate he is, and what interest he takes
in all the things he never can share, poor fellow. I don't know what
Hollywell would be without Charlie! I wonder how soon he will be able to
come here! Hardly this year, I am afraid, for things must be comfortable
for him, and I shall never get them so without Amy, and then it will be
autumn. Well, what next? Oh, you said window-curtains. Some blue sort
of stuff, I suppose, like the drawing-room ones at Hollywell. What's the
name of it?'

In fact, Mrs. Ashford was much of his opinion, that he never would make
things comfortable without Amy, though he gave his best attention to the
inquiries that were continually made of him; and where he had an idea,
carried it out to the utmost. He knew much better what he was about in
the arrangements for Coombe Prior, where he had installed his friend,
Mr. Wellwood, and set on foot many plans for improvements, giving them
as much attention as if he had nothing else to occupy his mind. Both the
curate and Markham were surprised that he did not leave these details
till his return home; but he answered,--

'Better do things while we may. The thought of this unhappy place is
enough to poison everything; and I don't think I could rest without
knowing that the utmost was being done for it.'

He was very happy making arrangements for a village feast on the
wedding-day. The Ashfor