The parents thought much over the ideas conjured up by that last sentence.
One morning, the garrulous Mrs.Hare, the gossip of the neighbourhood, called at the rectory; she had returned, two days before, from Knaresdean; and she, too, had her tale to tell of Caroline's conquests.
"I assure you, my dear Mrs.Merton, if we had not all known that his heart was pre-occupied, we should have thought that Lord Vargrave was her warmest admirer.

Most charming man, Lord Vargrave! but as for Lord Doltimore, it was quite a flirtation.

Excuse _me_: no scandal, you know, ha, ha! a fine young man, but stiff and reserved,--not the fascination of Lord Vargrave." "Does Lord Raby return to town, or is he now at Knaresdean for the autumn ?" "He goes on Friday, I believe: very few of the guests are left now.

Lady A.and Lord B., and Lord Vargrave and your daughter, and Mr.Legard and Lord Doltimore, and Mrs.and the Misses Cipher; all the rest went the same day I did." "Indeed!" said Mrs.Merton, in some surprise.
"Ah, I read your thoughts: you wonder that Miss Caroline has not come back,--is not that it?
But perhaps Lord Doltimore--ha, ha!--no scandal now--do excuse _me_!" "Was Mr.Maltravers at Knaresdean ?" asked Mrs.Merton, anxious to change the subject, and unprepared with any other question.

Evelyn was cutting out a paper horse for Sophy, who--all her high spirits flown--was lying on the sofa, and wistfully following her fairy fingers.