He had now been in possession of his cure for more than six months, and consequently felt at home in it. His improvements, too, had now been got accustomed to; and although he was thought somewhat queer in his notions by the heavy agriculturists around him, he was pretty well liked on the whole. As for his sister Lizzie, she was idolised by poor and rich around: to tell the truth, it is my opinion that a good deal of her brother's popularity arose from his connection with the young lady with the violet eyes. Tom's bad behaviour continued all through the service, and his eyes were not still even during the eloquent discourse which the young divine afterwards delivered, on the "Vanity of human wishes"--would that Tom could have applied the text! In going out of the church, he allowed his mother and Markworth to go on in front, and hung back in the rear. He could see that his charmer had not yet stirred from her pew, although nearly all the congregation were out, and he wondered what made her linger. Fortunately, he was not long kept in suspense. He passed our old friend "Jarge" in the porch, and incontinently asked that individual "who was the young lady in the rector's pew?" "Lor sakes! Measter Tummus, don't you know un? Whoi, thet's the porsun's seestur; that be Missy Pringle, Measter Tummus!" "Thank you, George," answered our hero; and how overjoyed he felt as he walked along after the others. He knew Pringle well, although he was not aware that he had a sister; and "of course I can easily get introduced," he thought very naturally. The following Monday, strange to say, Tom begged Markworth to excuse him for some little time, as he had to pay a visit, and he set off alone to the parsonage. Naturally he was "only going to pay a regular call;" it was only proper that he should pay a visit to his friend Pringle, whom he had not seen "since last year, by Jove!" and to congratulate him on his ecclesiastical preferment. That was all! And so Master Tom rode up to the parsonage on one of the old horses, which the dowager had retained in the stables--probably on account of its not being fit for farm-work-- the very next morning after seeing Lizzie. Pringle was glad to see him, and his sister was introduced to the "young squire," who tried to make himself as agreeable as possible, but was painfully embarrassed during his entire visit; and yet, before he had gone away, Lizzie thought him "such a nice fellow," and she was "oh, what a darling" to him.--The two young things were drinking deep draughts of love which were intoxicating them and drawing them nearer and nearer to each other in a sort of rose-coloured Paradise, which the mere presence of the one conjured up to the other. And then he had to go, and it was pleasant to go, merely to have those taper fingers in his, which pressure sent a thrill of sweet electricity through his frame, while even she trembled and blushed--and then came the pang of parting.