He saluted me with a very fine compliment, delicately worded, and modestly delivered withal, which he had doubtless concocted as he rode along.

He told me he had brought a message from his mother, who, as he was riding that way, had desired him to call at the Manor and beg the pleasure of my company to a friendly family dinner to-morrow.
'There is no one to meet but ourselves,' said he; 'but Esther is very anxious to see you; and my mother fears you will feel solitary in this great house so much alone, and wishes she could persuade you to give her the pleasure of your company more frequently, and make yourself at home in our more humble dwelling, till Mr.Huntingdon's return shall render this a little more conducive to your comfort.' 'She is very kind,' I answered, 'but I am not alone, you see;--and those whose time is fully occupied seldom complain of solitude.' 'Will you not come to-morrow, then?
She will be sadly disappointed if you refuse.' I did not relish being thus compassionated for my loneliness; but, however, I promised to come.
'What a sweet evening this is!' observed he, looking round upon the sunny park, with its imposing swell and slope, its placid water, and majestic clumps of trees.

'And what a paradise you live in!' 'It is a lovely evening,' answered I; and I sighed to think how little I had felt its loveliness, and how little of a paradise sweet Grassdale was to me--how still less to the voluntary exile from its scenes.

Whether Mr.Hargrave divined my thoughts, I cannot tell, but, with a half-hesitating, sympathising seriousness of tone and manner, he asked if I had lately heard from Mr.Huntingdon.
'Not lately,' I replied.
'I thought not,' he muttered, as if to himself, looking thoughtfully on the ground.
'Are you not lately returned from London ?' I asked.
'Only yesterday.' 'And did you see him there ?' 'Yes--I saw him.' 'Was he well ?' 'Yes--that is,' said he, with increasing hesitation and an appearance of suppressed indignation, 'he was as well as--as he deserved to be, but under circumstances I should have deemed incredible for a man so favoured as he is.' He here looked up and pointed the sentence with a serious bow to me.

I suppose my face was crimson.
'Pardon me, Mrs.Huntingdon,' he continued, 'but I cannot suppress my indignation when I behold such infatuated blindness and perversion of taste;--but, perhaps, you are not aware--' He paused.
'I am aware of nothing, sir--except that he delays his coming longer than I expected; and if, at present, he prefers the society of his friends to that of his wife, and the dissipations of the town to the quiet of country life, I suppose I have those friends to thank for it.