aking them to dinner went away down the road, he
sat on the parapet of the bridge in front of the house listening to
the sound of the horses' feet, and telling himself that there was
nothing left for him in life.

If ever one man had been good to another, he had been good to Paul
Montague, and now Paul Montague was robbing him of everything he
valued in the world. His thoughts were not logical, nor was his mind
exact. The more he considered it, the stronger was his inward
condemnation of his friend. He had never mentioned to any one the
services he had rendered to Montague. In speaking of him to Hetta he
had alluded only to the affection which had existed between them. But
he felt that because of those services his friend Montague had owed it
to him not to fall in love with the girl he loved; and he thought that
if, unfortunately, this had happened unawares, Montague should have
retired as soon as he learned the truth. He could not bring himself to
forgive his friend, even though Hetta had assured him that his friend
had never spoken to her of love. He was sore all over, and it was Paul
Montague who made him sore. Had there been no such man at Carbury when
Hetta came there, Hetta might now have been mistress of the house. He
sat there till the servant came to tell him that his dinner was on the
table. Then he crept in and ate,--so that the man might not see his
sorrow; and, after dinner, he sat with a book in his hand seeming to
read. But he read not a word, for his mind was fixed altogether on
his cousin Hetta. 'What a poor creature a man is,' he said to himself,
'who is not sufficiently his own master to get over a feeling like
this.'

At Caversham there was a very grand party,--as grand almost as a dinner
party can be in the country. There were the Earl and Countess of
Loddon and Lady Jane Pewet from Loddon Park, and the bishop and his
wife, and the Hepworths. These, with the Carburys and the parson's
family, and the people staying in the house, made twenty-four at the
dinner table. As there were fourteen ladies and only ten men, the
banquet can hardly be said to have been very well arranged. But those
things cannot be done in the country with the exactness which the
appliances of London make easy; and then the Longestaffes, though they
were decidedly people of fashion, were not famous for their excellence
in arranging such matters. If aught, however, was lacking in
exactness, it was made up in grandeur. There were