For ’twas my custom at this time to ride over a certain part of my estates every day, visiting the farmers and cottagers and making myself known to ’em, and everywhere I received the greatest kindness and a prodigious warm welcome, and many also, hearing that I wan’t wedded to any gentlewoman in foreign parts, believed me to be returned with the intent to marry Dorothy, and so encouraged me thereto, heaping many blessings on her head. Now one afternoon, when I was returning from such a visit as this, I felt a desire for solitude and communing with myself, and so sent my horse back to Ellswether by Loll Duss, that rid after me, and walked on by myself. But I wan’t doomed to enjoy my solitude long, for scarce had I walked a quarter of a mile before I heard the sound of wheels in the mire, and looking back, saw a neat coach come along behind me, with a lady beckoning to me with her fan from the window on’t. And I going to see what she would have with me, found her to be my ancient acquaintance, Mrs Packworth, and with her Mrs Sternhold her mother, and not having yet seen either of these gentlewomen since my return, save only in church, they did desire of me to come into the coach with ’em, and they would carry me home, while I told them concerning myself and my travels. And this I wan’t by no means loath to do, finding my single meditations little comforting, and so entered the coach and sat opposite to them, and for a time we were very merry, the two gentlewomen asking me questions, and I answering them. And when all their questions was done, I said to them that ’twas my turn to ask, and they consenting that this was only fair, I did begin; but no sooner had I touched, though in the most delicate way imaginable, upon Dorothy, than Mrs Sternhold looked upon me as though grieved and astonished for the hardness of my heart, and Mrs Packworth seemed all at once to become angry and contemptuous of me. “Come, sir,” says she, “sure you need discover no interest in Mrs Brandon, for we all know that you have resigned all pretension to her.” “Sisley, my dear daughter!” says her mother, but Mrs Packworth would not agree to withdraw from her position. “An’t it true?” she says to me. “Madam,” says I, “perhaps you’ll allow me, speaking in confidence, to say that ’tis possible for any person to repent of his early sins and follies, and, having been duly punished for ’em, to do his best to amend ’em.” “I presume, sir, that Mrs Brandon’s inclinations will carry some weight in such a matter?” cries she, just as had her father. “I think, madam,” says I, “that you can scarce deem me likely to wish to force Mrs Brandon’s inclinations? Nevertheless, ’tis allowable in me to cherish a hope that, while demanding no more favour at starting than any other person, I may be able to show my regret for my former carriage, and perhaps in due time to enlist her heart in my cause.”