oy was graver and not unmixed with some
anxiety--anxiety which he always put aside in his wife's
presence--seemed eager to have his son at home.

"He is the eldest son," he repeated more than once, when talking to me
of his hope that Guy would now settle permanently at Beechwood. "After
myself, the head of the family."

After John! It was almost ridiculous to peer so far into the future as
that.

Of all the happy faces I saw the day before the marriage, I think the
happiest was Mrs. Halifax's, as I met her coming out of Guy's room,
which ever since he left had been locked up, unoccupied. Now his
mother threw open the door with a cheerful air.

"You may go in if you like, Uncle Phineas. Does it not look nice?"

It did indeed, with the fresh white curtains; the bed laid all in
order; the book-shelves arranged, and even the fowling-piece and
fishing-rod put in the right places.

The room looked very neat, I said, with an amused doubt as to how long
it was to remain so.

"That is true, indeed. How he used to throw his things about! A sad
untidy boy!" And his mother laughed; but I saw all her features were
trembling with emotion.

"He will not be exactly a boy now. I wonder if we shall find him much
changed."

"Very likely. Brown, with a great beard; he said so in one of his
letters. I shall hardly know my boy again."--With a lighting-up of the
eye that furnished a flat contradiction to the mother's statement.

"Here are some of Mrs. Tod's roses, I see."

"She made me take them. She said Master Guy always used to stop and
pick a bunch as he rode past. She hopes she shall see him ride past on
Sunday next. Guy must pay her one of his very first visits; the good
old soul!"

I hinted that Guy would have to pay visits half over the country, to
judge by the number of invitations I had heard of.

"Yes. Everybody wants to steal my boy. Everybody has a welcome for
him.--How bright old Watkins has polished that gun!--Sir Herbert says,
Guy must come over to the shooting next week. He used to be
exceedingly fond of going to the manor-house."

I smiled to see the innocent smile of this good mother, who would have
recoiled at the accusation of match-making. Yet I knew she was
thinking of her great favourite, pretty Grace Oldtower; who was Grace
Oldtower still, and had refused, gossip said, half the brilliant
matches in the county, to the amazement and strong disapprobation of
all her friends--excepting M