He himself gave up the visit; but a little time after, when Sophy fell into a tranquil sleep, he thought he might venture to canter across the country to the race-ground, and return to dinner.
Days--nay, a whole week passed, the races were over, but Caroline had not returned.

Meanwhile, Sophy's fever left her; she could quit her bed, her room; she could come downstairs now, and the family was happy.

It is astonishing how the least ailment in those little things stops the wheels of domestic life! Evelyn fortunately had not caught the fever: she was pale, and somewhat reduced by fatigue and confinement; but she was amply repaid by the mother's swimming look of quiet gratitude, the father's pressure of the hand, Sophy's recovery, and her own good heart.
They had heard twice from Caroline, putting off her return: Lady Raby was so kind, she could not get away till the party broke up; she was so glad to hear such an account of Sophy.
Lord Vargrave had not yet arrived at the rectory to stay; but he had twice ridden over, and remained there some hours.

He exerted himself to the utmost to please Evelyn; and she--who, deceived by his manners, and influenced by the recollections of long and familiar acquaintance, was blinded to his real character--reproached herself more bitterly than ever for her repugnance to his suit and her ungrateful hesitation to obey the wishes of her stepfather.
To the Mertons, Lumley spoke with good-natured praise of Caroline; she was so much admired; she was the beauty at Knaresdean.

A certain young friend of his, Lord Doltimore, was evidently smitten.