‘And of course,’ said Richard, with a momentary gleam in his steel-grey eyes, ‘of course my personal advantage should outweigh every other consideration! It is obvious. Nothing like a woman’s clear head for solving a difficulty. I will take your advice.’ Rosalie’s pretty face wore a look of such absolute bewilderment, and she was evidently so much at a loss to account for his sarcastic tone, that Richard suddenly burst out laughing; the cloud lifted from his brow, giving place to an expression of frank good-humour. ‘Uncle Isaac,’ he cried, clapping him heartily on the shoulder, ‘forgive my chopping and changing so often; this time my mind is made up. I accept your offer. Shake hands on it!’ CHAPTER IV The blackthorn-flower hath fallen away— The blackthorn-flower that wise men say Keeps wild and variable skies As long as it may stay; But here’s the gorse, and here’s the whin, And here the pearlèd may appears, And poison-weeds of satin skin Through every bank prick long green ears To hear the cuckoo-cries. ELINOR SWEETMAN. To gather flowers Sappho went, And homeward she did bring, Within her lawny continent, The treasure of the spring. HERRICK. RICHARD MARSHALL drove the plough slowly up the brown slope, half turned at the summit, halted, and, having established his horses at a comfortable angle, sat down, with his back against a tall mossy bank sheltered by a little copse, to eat his breakfast. He had already partaken of a ‘dew bit’ shortly after dawn; but two or three hours’ exercise in the brisk morning air had whetted his appetite afresh, and he now fell to work on his bread and bacon with the utmost zest and relish.