It was not only these brothers who looked forward with interest to the possibility of young Askam’s presence at the meet that morning. All the country-side was more or less agog on the subject. Thorsgarth was a very considerable house; the Askams were very considerable people in the neighbourhood. Every one was excited; many fair creatures had gone so far as to say that they were ‘dying to see him,’ dying to know what he was like, and if he were going to be an acquisition, or not, to their society. People began to recall things, and to say to one another, ‘Ay, I remember how his mother used to ride to hounds; what a woman she was! How handsome, and what a temper!’ And then the voices would sink a little, while for the benefit of some stranger it would be related how the late Mrs. Askam had come to her untimely end; how she would go out one day, despite her husband’s expostulations; how she put her horse at a certain fence, which he refused; how she flogged him on till he unwillingly took the leap, and caught his legs in the top rail, pitching his rider head foremost off him; and how Mrs. Askam was carried home with a broken neck. Half-forgotten things like these were talked about. Amongst all the wondering and speculation there was little kindness, little personal feeling. There was no matron who said, ‘Ah, his mother and I used to be great friends; I know I shall like him for her sake.’ For, as a matter of fact, this reckless young woman, who had so untimely died, had not made many friends during the years of her married life in Bradstane. Therefore, every one wondered; no one really cared what sort of young man Otho Askam might be. Michael and Gilbert rode slowly on through the deep lanes with their tangled hedges (for some of the folk thereabouts were not as particular about their clipping as they might have been) in the damp morning air, and, emerging from the lanes, struck the stony road, with its rough walls, over which they had to travel to arrive at Brigsdale Hall, Sir Thomas’s place. They were to look at, as goodly a pair of brethren as any in whose company they were likely that day to find themselves. ‘Is Magdalen coming to the meet?’ asked Gilbert suddenly. ‘Yes. She’s driving Mrs. Stamer to it. She’s staying with Miss Strangforth, and Magdalen doesn’t know what on earth to do with her.’ ‘Ah!’ said Gilbert, with his slight, careless smile. ‘A meet must be a godsend under such circumstances.’ And by and by he made some further observation, to the effect that it was a picture of a day, and that the scent would be grand, to which Michael assented cheerfully; and having got that question settled, they rode up to the hospitable door, delivered their horses over to a groom, and were shown into the dining-room. Sir Thomas and his son Byrom were there, and the room was full of men, old, young, and middle-aged, standing about, waiting till their host should give the signal to be seated.