Morning came; and when the ladies descended to breakfast, it was found that Lord Fitzjocelyn had gone out with the sportsmen. The children lamented, and their elders pronounced a young gentleman's passion for shooting to be quite incalculable. When, late in the day, the party returned, it was reported that he did not appear to care much for the sport; but had walked beside Mr. Mansell's shooting-pony, and had finally gone with him to see his model farm. This was a sure road to the old squire's heart, and no one was more delighted with the guest. For Aunt Catharine's sake, Louis was always attracted by old age, and his attentive manners had won Mr. Mansell's heart, even before his inquiries about his hobby had completed the charm. To expound and to listen to histories of agricultural experiments that really answered, was highly satisfactory to both, and all the evening they were eager over the great account-book which was the pride of the squire's heart; while Virginia and Louisa grumbled or looked imploring, and Isabel marvelled at there being any interest for any one in old Mr. Mansell's conversation. 'What is the meaning of this?' asked James, as they went up stairs. Louis shrugged like a Frenchman, looked debonnaire, and said 'Good-night.' Again he came down; prepared for shooting, though both pale and lame; but he quietly put aside all expostulations, walking on until, about fifty yards from the house, a pebble, turning under the injured foot, caused such severe pain that he could but just stagger to a tree and sit down. There was much battling before Mr. Mansell would consent to leave him, or he to allow James to help him back to the house, before going on to overtake the party. Very irate was Jem, at folly that seemed to have undone the benefits of the last month, and at changeableness that was a desertion of the queen to whom all homage was due. He was astonished that Louis turned into the study, a room little inhabited in general, and said, 'Make haste--you will catch the others; don't fall in with the ladies.' 'I mean to send your aunt to you.' 'Pray don't. Can't you suppose that peace is grateful after having counted every mortal hour last night?' 'Was that the reason you were going to walk ten miles without a leg to stand upon? Fitzjocelyn! is this systematic?' 'What is?' said Louis, wearily. 'Your treatment of--your aunt.' 'On what system should aunts be treated?' 'Of all moments to choose for caprice! Exactly when I thought even you were fixed!' 'Pur troppo,' sighed Louis. 'Ha!' cried Jem, 'you have not gone and precipitated matters! I thought you could never amaze me again; but even you might have felt she was a being to merit rather more time and respect!' 'Even I am not devoid of the organ of veneration.'