thoughts. That night, at home, he would make up his mind, so he declared to himself, and would then write to his niece begging her to drop the subject. Having so far come to a resolution, he went on meditating what course of life it might be well for him to pursue if he and Miss Dunstable should, after all, become man and wife.
There were two ladies whom it behooved him to see on the day of his arrival—whom, indeed, he generally saw every day except when absent from Greshamsbury. The first of these—first in the general consideration of the people of the place—was the wife of the squire, Lady Arabella Gresham, a very old patient of the doctor's. Her it was his custom to visit early in the afternoon; and then, if he were able to escape the squire's daily invitation to dinner, he customarily went to the other, Lady Scatcherd, when the rapid meal in his own house was over. Such, at least, was his summer practice.
"Well, doctor, how are they at Boxall Hill?" said the squire, waylaying him on the gravel sweep before the door. The squire was very hard set for occupation in these summer months.
"Quite well, I believe."
"I don't know what's come to Frank. I think he hates this place now. He's full of the election, I suppose."
"Oh yes; he told me to say he should be over here soon. Of course there'll be no contest, so he need not trouble himself."
"Happy dog—isn't he, doctor?—to have it all before him instead of behind him. Well, well, he's as good a lad as ever lived—as ever lived. And, let me see—Mary's time—" And then there were a few very important words spoken on that subject.
"I'll just step up to Lady Arabella now," said the doctor.
"She's as fretful as possible," said the squire. "I've just left her."
"Nothing special the matter, I hope?"
"No, I think not; nothing in your way, that is; only specially cross, which always comes in my way. You'll stop and dine to-day, of course?"
"Not to-day, squire."
"Nonsense; you will. I have been quite counting on you. I have a particular reason for wanting to have you
