"_Tout ce qu'il y a du plus fiance_," was the answer. "It was one of the last affairs of state that my poor aunt concluded before she died. Bruce is a very good match. I don't think Bella worships him, though I have scarcely ever seen them together, and I am sure he is not a favorite with Uncle Henry; but nothing on earth would make him break it off; indeed, I know no one who would propose such a thing to him--not his daughter, certainly. There's no such hopeless obstacle as the passive resistance of a thoroughly lazy man. Good-night, Frank. I've sent the Baron on for you to-morrow. We must start about nine, mind, for we've fifteen miles to go to cover." I went to bed, and dreamed that Raymond was playing _ecarte_ with Forrester for his daughter, who stood by blushing beautifully--and never held a trump! CHAPTER VII. "She has two eyes so soft and brown; Take care! She gives a side glance, and looks down; Beware! beware! Trust her not; she is fooling thee." So the days went on. The stream of visitors usual in a country house during the hunting season flowed in and out of Kerton Manor without any remarkable specimen showing itself above the surface. One individual, perhaps, I ought to except, the curate of the parish, who was a very constant visitor. His appearance was not fascinating: he had a long, narrow head, thatched with straight, scanty hair; little, protruding eyes, and a complexion of a bright unvarying red--in fact, he was very like a prawn.