too, which they possess in a frightful degree.
They cannot bear to think themselves in the
wrong.

"Whipped! so she ought. Pet is a humbug,
Patty. I believe she loves him; yet she
has never called him Oliver once."

"No more she did; and we must not call
her Pet any more. It is too familiar for the
squire's lady."

"Pooh! he calls you his dear Patty. And
quite right too. I agree with him. You are
a dear Patty."

"Of course, Robert, that is very nice of
you to say so, and I only wish conceited Mr.
Bellenden would say something pretty of that
sort to poor Sarah Jane. I have had a letter
from her, and she says she is completely
miserable."

"All your doing! You made the match!
You are answerable for anything that may
happen—murder—suicide—divorce."

"Now, Robert! I am sure I did it for the
best; but, indeed, I am sickened of match-
making. If Sarah Jane—once so dreadfully in
love—is miserable, what will happen to Pet;
perhaps, at this moment, she may be eloping
from the squire. I wonder how the squire feels.
It gives me quite a shudder. Suppose he is now
feeling that he has blighted her happiness for
ever. For aught we know, she might have had
a prior attachment—loved one whom she could
never marry."

"What are you crying about, Patty?"

"Oh, Robert, if he now feels that he has made
a mistake—that it cannot be undone—that she
loves somebody else."

"Of all the absurd little Pattys I ever knew,
you are the most preposterous. Dry your eyes,
or I will have a divorce. I shall have the
rheumatism for a week, through merely sitting by
such a damp creature. For your comfort, learn
that the squire said to me: If he fancied Pet's
aversion to matrimony was aversion to himself,
he would never have permitted an engagement
to take place between them. But he could not
help fancying he had the best chance of any
man, and he did not see why he should lose it,
because she had some odd unaccustomed
notions, very unlike your gushing Sarah Janes and
impulsive Pattys."

"Robert; hold your tongue. I won't sit
here and have my sex abused. I hope, Robert,
you will remember to be kind and forbearing to
me, for what between Sarah Jane and Pet, I
expect to be utterly miserable."

CHAPTER III.

MY goodness me, what a turn it gave me,
when I saw the carriages go over the bridge,
and heard all the hurrahing and shouting, and
the bells ringing, and the cannon firing, and
Robert waving his hat like mad, and I waved
my handkerchief too, and Pet—I mean the
squire's lady—peeped out and saw me, and waved
back. And upon my word, there was the
carriage with the imperious horses, and the
imperious servants careering back, after putting
them down at the Hall, and coming up to our
door with the squire's and the squire's lady's
compliments, and would I be so kind as to come
up and see them?

Dear me, how I cried all the way up, just for
nothing, and if there was not Robert at the
great Hall door, and caught me at it, and gave
me quite a shaking, as he helped me out; but
he had not time to scold, for there was Pet with
her arms round my neck.

She looked well; she did not look unhappy;
she seemed a little embarrassed. It was a very
embarrassing situation.

I must say the squire, for a shy awkward man,
acquitted himself beautifully. In fact, he did
not seem to care in the least. The more they
shouted, the more he seemed pleased. The more
they wanted to shake hands and congratulate,
the more he obliged them.

And he made a speech, the first I suppose he
ever got through without saying just what he
did not intend to say.

"I thank you, my kind friends, for your warm
welcome to my wife. I can only say that the
more you know of her, the more reason will you
see for regarding me as one of the happiest of
men. I trust, my kind neighbours, and you, my
tenants, will unite with me in making her so
happy amongst us that she will regard this day
as the brightest of her life."

"Now, Robert, if the squire had said that of
me, I should have said, 'No, there is one
brighter: the day on which I married you.'"

"And what has the day you married me got
to do with the squire?"

"I have great misgivings. Why does she not
call him Oliver?"

"He seems very contented. I never saw him
look better, and he is on the broad grin all the
time. I will tell you what I saw."

"What. Oh, what! Robert?"

"When he welcomed her home, he gave her
a kiss."

"No! before all the people; and what did
she say?"

"She said, 'May the carriage go for Patty?'"

"Darling creature!"

So, upon the whole, my mind was a little more
easy now. She had rather a grave sedate way
with her, but she did not look unhappy; while
the squire was positively radiant.

They celebrated their return home by a series
of entertainments. As I dressed to go to their
first dinner-party, I could not help thinking of
those dull affairs, so irksome to us all, that the
squire gave when he was a bachelor. I
wondered how it would be now, and if Pet would
act the great lady, or the haughty lady, or the
supercilious wife.

While I was thinking, if the imperious carriage
with the imperious horses and servants did not
drive up to our door! No more walking up, for
me, and taking off my bonnet, and arranging
my curls behind Robert, lest the imperious
servants should see me.

The imperious servants were so good as to