It was with no ordinary feelings that Sir Godfrey Willoughby perused or listened to this formal memorial of an event that had been so long obscure to him: it seemed, however, to leave little now indefinite or concealed; numerous though the details were, which it presented for the first time, they implied nothing really evil, or extraordinary, save as most human calamities might; and the result was rather satisfactory than otherwise. But the afternoon was now far advanced, and he rode homeward, to dine alone, to finish an uncompleted packet to his Exeter lawyer, with information and inquiries about the so-called young Griffiths, as well as in regard to his adoptive father—then to set off, a little later than he had expected, to meet his returning party on the Versailles road. The circumstances of their late dilemma were soon related—rather tending to Charles’s disadvantage in the eyes of his father, who, amidst all his general mildness, was inclined to look upon the youth’s disposition with occasional severity; seeming, as it did to him, at that half-formed stage, when lads are least agreeable in the paternal view, to indicate some traits, both erratic and froward, though at times brilliant, of his second uncle, John. He scarce listened to the boy’s explanation, and checked his self-justifying arguments somewhat abruptly; to the silent chafing of his son’s spirit, and the mother’s still more silent concern. But at their late coffee-table, all being apparently forgotten with Sir Godfrey’s expressed resolution never to trust the carriage in future apart from his own guidance, they sat pleasantly talking by candle-light. “So soon as Frank arrives, my dear Kate,” said Sir Godfrey, from his arm-chair to the sofa where his wife leant near, recovering from her fatigues, “we shall leave forthwith for the country. I have scarcely any further business in Paris. And you have seen here, I daresay, all that is to see?” She assented perfectly. Mr Thorpe had launched out almost in a dissertation to the governess and Miss Willoughby, the fruit of his late rural notices, on agriculture and ecclesiastical arrangements; led on by Mrs Mason’s attentive air, and the apparently intelligent interest of Rose. It was with a mild confusion that he heard the young lady’s abrupt doubt as to the sufficiency of sugar in his cup, followed straight by the addition of another lump from the silver tongs in her hand; and while Mr Thorpe stirred, and tasted, she had quietly escaped from the room, perhaps to re-read her dearest friend’s epistle. So Sir Godfrey, who not merely treated the tutor with the utmost deference as a graduate and a deacon of the Church of England, but entertained great respect for him as a learned and good man—at once joined himself to the topic—differing slightly from the view that English plans, even English Protestantism, would improve Frenchmen.