And it was no doubt with an uplifted heart that Mr. Churchill rode on his errand to the Hall. He knew, indeed, that Mr. Temple's approval, or disapproval, would ultimately make no difference to John Temple's position. The estates were strictly entailed on the next heir, in the event of the squire dying without children. The one child of the house was dead, and John Temple was the next heir, therefore the Woodlea property must some day be his, and his children's after him. Mr. Churchill looked proudly around, as he went on, at the wide grass-lands and wooded slopes of the familiar landscape. He seemed to see them in a new light. His grandson might become their possessor, and he, the grandsire, would no doubt reap the benefit. He was a man who loved money and success in life, but to give him his due he was also not thinking only of worldly advantages. He was thinking that no one could now throw a stone at his "little girl, and that she would be able to hold up her head with the best of them." And his heart was still full of pride when he drew rein at the Hall. He could scarcely ask if he could see the squire in the same tone as was his wont. But he tried to do this, and not to show any undue elation, when the squire received him in the library. "Well, Mr. Churchill, have you any news?" asked Mr. Temple, gravely, as he held out his hand to his tenant. "Yes, squire, I have," answered Mr. Churchill, cordially grasping his landlord's hand in his own. "And what is it?" asked Mr. Temple, somewhat nervously. "Well, sir, I went up to London, as you know, the day before yesterday, and yesterday morning I went to the house in Pembridge Terrace, Bayswater, where the ladies live whose address Mrs. Temple kindly gave me, and where my daughter May has been staying since she left her home. And, squire, I found two real ladies, elderly, and clergyman's daughters, and they seemed very fond of my girl, and had known your nephew, Mr. John Temple, for many years. And to make a long story short, squire, Mr. John Temple and May were married from their house; the ladies going to the church to witness the ceremony, and then the young people went abroad." Mr. Temple's delicate, rather pallid complexion slightly flushed at this announcement, and for a moment he was silent. The pride of birth and station were not absent from his nature, but, on the other hand, he was a good and just man, and he knew that John Temple had only acted rightly. "Well, Mr. Churchill," he said, rather slowly, "I am glad to hear this is so. If my nephew induced your daughter to leave her home, he has only done what a gentleman ought to do in making her his wife."