That idea of hunting had taken possession of her narrow little mind already. It seemed the one thing needful to her happiness, the one distinction necessary to raise her to the social pinnacle she was always trying to scale. It would bring her into familiar intercourse with the county people, and then her prettiness and pleasing manners would do the rest. In the hunting field she would stand alone, not borne down by Mr. Piper’s vulgarity. ‘I’ll tell you how to manage Piper,’ said the captain. ‘Say that you are out of health, and that your doctor has ordered you to ride. You can make your doctor order anything you like, you know. He’ll take the hint, if he sees you’ve set your heart upon riding, and he’ll tell Piper that it’s a matter of vital necessity.’ Bella acted upon this idea. She was not so healthy a subject as Mrs. Piper as she had been when she was Miss Scratchell. She had languors, and nervous headaches, and shooting pains, and divers spasmodic or hysterical affections which were unknown to her in the days of her poverty. Hard work and hard living are the best regimen for these disorders. Bella had plenty of leisure now for imaginary ailments, and really believed herself a peculiarly delicate piece of human mechanism. She sent for Mr. Namby the day after this conversation with Captain Standish, and told him she was feeling low and nervous, and that she feared there must be something radically wrong, something organic. Now if the village surgeon had been attending Miss Scratchell he would have laughed such a notion to scorn, but this idea of organic disease in the mistress of the Park was not to be dismissed too lightly. The Park had been an important source of Mr. Namby’s income, in the late Mrs. Piper’s time, and he did not want the doors to be shut upon him now, so he smiled his most sympathetic smile, and gave a gentle sigh; the smile to re-assure, the sigh to express fore-knowledge of every evil the Fates had in store for his patient; and then he put his two fingers gently upon Bella’s wrist, looking at his watch the while, as if a beat more or less in the minute were a matter of supreme importance. ‘Thready,’ he said, shaking his head gravely. ‘I have a weak pulse, have I not?’ asked Bella. ‘I fancy I want exercise--open air--a more invigorating life. I drive a good deal; but there is not much exercise in that, you know.’ ‘Very little,’ assented Mr. Namby. ‘Don’t you think riding might be good for me?’ ‘The very thing I was about to recommend.’ ‘But I’m afraid Mr. Piper might not like me to ride,’ suggested Bella. ‘From my knowledge of Mr. Piper’s devotion to you, my dear madam, I feel assured that he would not oppose anything likely to be of benefit to you,’ said Mr. Namby, with conviction.