Captain De Stancy was a personage who would have been called interesting by women well out of their teens. He was ripe, without having declined a digit towards fogeyism. He was sufficiently old and experienced to suggest a goodly accumulation of touching amourettes in the chambers of his memory, and not too old for the possibility of increasing the store. He was apparently about eight-and-thirty, less tall than his father had been, but admirably made; and his every movement exhibited a fine combination of strength and flexibility of limb. His face was somewhat thin and thoughtful, its complexion being naturally pale, though darkened by exposure to a warmer sun than ours. His features were somewhat striking; his moustache and hair raven black; and his eyes, denied the attributes of military keenness by reason of the largeness and darkness of their aspect, acquired thereby a softness of expression that was in part womanly. His mouth as far as it could be seen reproduced this characteristic, which might have been called weakness, or goodness, according to the mental attitude of the observer. It was large but well formed, and showed an unimpaired line of teeth within. His dress at present was a heather-coloured rural suit, cut close to his figure. ‘You knew my cousin, Jack Ravensbury?’ he said to Somerset, as they went on. ‘Poor Jack: he was a good fellow.’ ‘He was a very good fellow.’ ‘He would have been made a parson if he had lived--it was his great wish. I, as his senior, and a man of the world as I thought myself, used to chaff him about it when he was a boy, and tell him not to be a milksop, but to enter the army. But I think Jack was right--the parsons have the best of it, I see now.’ ‘They would hardly admit that,’ said Somerset, laughing. ‘Nor can I.’ ‘Nor I,’ said the captain’s sister. ‘See how lovely you all looked with your big guns and uniform when you entered Markton; and then see how stupid the parsons look by comparison, when they flock into Markton at a Visitation.’ ‘Ah, yes,’ said De Stancy, ‘“Doubtless it is a brilliant masquerade; But when of the first sight you’ve had your fill, It palls--at least it does so upon me, This paradise of pleasure and ennui.” When one is getting on for forty; “When we have made our love, and gamed our gaming, Dressed, voted, shone, and maybe, something more; With dandies dined, heard senators declaiming; Seen beauties brought to market by the score,” and so on, there arises a strong desire for a quiet old-fashioned country life, in which incessant movement is not a necessary part of the programme.’ ‘But you are not forty, Will?’ said Charlotte. ‘My dear, I was thirty-nine last January.’ ‘Well, men about here are youths at that age. It was India used you up so, when you served in the line, was it not? I wish you had never gone there!’