"Well, Martin," replied his companion, whose education as well as the number of his farm acres surpassed greatly those of his neighbour, "we must hope that if the new parson gets the people back to the church, he will be kind to his poor parishioners also." And then as farmer Martin turned into his own gate, his companion left him with a friendly farewell, and stepped on quickly towards his own home, which, though the neighbouring farm, was at least a quarter of a mile farther by the road. From the rectory of Briarsleigh with its shrouded windows, and the homely conversation of two of the parishioners, we must lead the reader to a far different scene. On the evening of the second day after the death of the rector of Briarsleigh, a family party were seated at dinner in the dining-room at Englefield, to which we have introduced the reader in a former chapter. Of the five persons then seated at breakfast, two only are present now, Lord Rivers and his youngest daughter, Lady Dora, now Lady Dora Lennard. Lady Mary Woodville, who has married a Scotch nobleman, inherits her mother's delicate constitution, and seldom visits Englefield. And that mother, Lady Rivers, whose gentle loving character had endeared her not only to her husband and children, but also to the lowliest worker on the estate, has passed away from earth. Even now, after ten years, the memory of the gentle lady lives in the hearts of those who could claim no nearer tie to her than that of friend or servant. Lord Woodville, the heir, is in London with his brother-in-law, Sir William Lennard, and thither his father and sister purpose following him on the morrow. A few intimate friends and relatives by marriage are present on this occasion, making a pleasant gathering of eight. Lady Dora is seated at the head of the table, opposite to the earl. She has the same bright dark eyes and brunette complexion which made her brother Robert once call her a gipsy. The face and form have a matronly dignity and appearance very different from the lively girl of seventeen who was so interested in the marriage of Fanny Franklyn; but the change is a decided improvement, and at thirty-three Lady Dora Lennard is a very handsome woman. And the earl has changed since he paid a congratulatory visit to his old tutor on the marriage of his daughter; his hair is white as snow, but his eyes have lost none of their dark lustre, and the finely cut features still preserve their delicate outline, and even at the age of sixty his form has lost none of its stately bearing.