he ancient coronet
of Tewkesbury! Why not? The world is strange; nothing happens that we
anticipate: when apparently stifled by the common-place, we are on the
brink of stepping into the adventurous. If he married Miss Grandison,
his career was closed: a most unnatural conclusion for one so young and
bold. It was evident that he must marry Henrietta Temple: and then? Why
then something would happen totally unexpected and unforeseen. Who could
doubt it? Not he!

He rose, he mounted his horse, and galloped over to Ducie Common. Its
very aspect melted his heart. He called at the cottages he had visited
two days before. Without enquiring after Miss Temple, he contrived
to hear a thousand circumstances relating to her which interested and
charmed him. In the distance rose the woods of Ducie; he gazed upon
them as if he could never withdraw his sight from their deep and silent
forms. Oh, that sweet bower! Why was there any other world but Ducie?
All his brave projects of war, and conquest, and imperial plunder,
seemed dull and vain now. He sickened at the thought of action. He
sighed to gather roses, to listen to songs sweeter than the nightingale,
and wander for ever in moon-lit groves.

He turned his horse's head: slowly and sorrowfully he directed his
course to Armine. Had they arrived? The stern presence of reality was
too much for all his slight and glittering visions. What was he, after
all? This future conqueror was a young officer on leave, obscure except
in his immediate circle, with no inheritance, and very much in debt;
awaited with anxiety by his affectionate parents, and a young lady
whom he was about to marry for her fortune! Most impotent epilogue to a
magnificent reverie!

The post arrived at Armine in the afternoon. As Ferdinand, nervous as
a child returning to school, tardily regained home, he recognised the
approaching postman. Hah! a letter? What was its import? The blessing of
delay? or was it the herald of their instant arrival? Pale and sick at
heart, he tore open the hurried lines of Katherine. The maiden aunt had
stumbled while getting out of a pony phaeton, and experienced a serious
accident; their visit to Armine was necessarily postponed. He read
no more. The colour returned to his cheek, reinforced by his heart's
liveliest blood. A thousand thoughts, a thousand wild hopes and wilder
plans, came over him. Here was, at least, one interposition in his
favour; others would occur. He felt fortunate.