Lizzie was in the self-same little conservatory, pretending to be very busy putting pots up, and poking about with her trowel, as if horticulture was the ultimate aim and end of existence. She was trying to be very unconscious--oh! what a very feeble pretence it was--and endeavoured to receive Master Tom as if he were an ordinary afternoon caller. Such a very faint endeavour it was. Tom went forward eagerly. He was not going to be baulked this time, and his military experience had taught him that a determined assault was the best way of securing an enemy's capitulation. He went forward, and with one hand he seized the little taper fingers of the young lady; his other arm, the unblushing dog placed round her waist, forcing Miss Lizzie to drop her trowel, and thus reducing her means of defence. He looked down into the deep violet eyes which were looking up into his own with--what shall you call it?--wonder or indignation? "Well, Lizzie!" Tom said. Lizzie said nothing; but it appeared to be "well." And then what a long tale had to be told. What a number of explanations and conjectures, and enquiries, and assertions! Tom wanted her to tell him here, in this very spot, where she had treated him so cruelly, that she was sorry for what she had done. Of course she was, and it "should not occur again," with such a supplicating little gesture. Then Lizzie must be informed over and over again in the strongest terms of assertion that the English language was capable of, whether Tom "really" loved her and cared for her so much. Imagine the protestations that ensued: the multiplicity of lover's honied words and oaths: then Tom's enquiries to the same effect, which had also to be confirmed, and so _da capo_. It took a good many "wells" before the interview was satisfactorily terminated, and Tom returned exultant to The Poplars to tell his mother of his happiness. Volume 3, Chapter XV. GRAND TABLEAUX. Typical characteristics, however decided, vary with the effects of time and change; and so the dowager had altered very much for the better, as regards her temper and disposition applied to the amenities of daily life, after that attack of paralysis she had had: the arrival of Tom at home again also did much to effect a cure, and she was now by far a more agreeable old woman than when she was first introduced to our notice. The certainty that Susan was alive and well, and the knowledge that she was comfortably situated, and no questions of money remaining between them, also tended to preserve the old lady's equanimity; and her direct wish was now to see Tom married and done for--then she said, she would be satisfied, and could go to her grave in peace beneath the green turf of Hartwood churchyard, where many a generation of the Hartshorne's of The Poplars slept their last sleep. Her one desire was to see "her boy" united to her pet Lizzie--that very Lizzie whom she had formerly railed at acrimoniously for "an artful minx!"