Rufus felt immediately that he had been the lowest of all low brutes; and almost made up his mind on the spot that it would be decidedly wrong of him to go to Nowelhurst that evening. We will not enter into the scene of strong self–condemnation, reciprocal collaudation, extraordinary admiration, because all married people know it; and as for those who are single, let them get married and learn it. Only in the last act of it, Jonah, from whom they had retreated, came up again, looking rather sheepish—for he had begun to keep a sweetheart—and spake these winged words: “Plase, sir, if you be so good, it baint no vault o’ maine nohow”. “Get all those trees at once laid in by the heels. What is no fault of yours, pray? Are you always at your dinner”? “Baint no vault o’ maine, sir; but there coom two genelmen chaps, as zays they musten zee you”. “Must see me, indeed, whether I choose it or no! And with all those trees to plant, and the mare to be ready at three oʼclock”! “Zo I tould un, sir; but they zays as they _must_ zee you”. “In the name of the devil and all his works, but Iʼll give them a bitter reception. Let them come this way, Jonah”. “Oh dear, if you are going to be violent! You know what you are sometimes, Rue—enough to frighten any man”. “Never, my darling, never. You never find Rufus Hutton formidable to any one who means rightly”. “No, no, to be sure, dear. But then, perhaps, they may not. And after all that has occurred to–day, I feel so much upset. Very foolish of me, I know. But promise me not to be rash, dear”. “Have no fear, my darling Rosa. I will never injure any man who does not insult you, dear”. While Rufus was looking ten feet high, and Mrs. Rufus tripping away, after a little sob and a whisper, Jonah came pelting down the walk with his great feet on either side of it, as if he had a barrow between them. At the same time a voice came round the corner past the arbutus–tree, now quivering red with strawberries, and the words thereof were these: “Perfect Paradise, my good sir! I knew it must be, from what I heard of him. Exactly like my friend the Dookʼs, but laid out still more tastefully. Bless me, why, his Grace must have copied it! Wonʼt I give him a poke in the ribs when he dines with me next Toosday! Sly bird, a sly bird, I say, though he is such a capital fellow. Knew where to come, Iʼm blest if he didnʼt, for taste, true science, and landscape”. “Haw! Yes; I quite agree with you. But his Grace has nothing so chaste, so perfect as this, in me opeenion, sir. Haw”!