Now after dinner I did set out as usual upon my ride, but I was come no further than to Puckle Acton when I found that my horse had cast a shoe. And for this there was evidently naught to be done save to chide Loll Duss for his not looking better to his duty, and to bid him carry the horse at once to the smithy and have the blacksmith look to him, while as I walked on by myself. And after walking through the town and turning back, I came by another way to Mr Sternhold’s house, and there found Mrs Diony in the garden, with a scarf thrown over her cap, overseeing the gardener that was at work sweeping up the dead leaves and broken twigs on the paths. Now Mrs Diony was ever my favourite of Mr Sternhold’s two daughters, and had been wont to show great kindness to Dorothy and myself in our childhood, so that it seemed to me that she might give me some help in my perplexity. And for this reason I wan’t sorry when she, coming to the gate for to inquire of me concerning Mrs Skipwith’s disease in her eyes, that was become an extraordinary great trouble to her of late, begged of me to come within, saying that she had scarce so much as caught sight of me since my return. Now after some discourse had betwixt us on indifferent topics, she did begin to rally me upon my mournful looks, saying that it wan’t by no means becoming to a gentleman but just come home to a fair estate and a sufficient fortune to bear such a melancholical air. And upon this I did open to her my trouble, showing her how my fair estate and my sufficient fortune was as naught to me without the woman that might have been mine had I not slighted her, and passing that over, pointed out how that all my plans for my cousin’s happiness were made of no avail by this strange conspiracy wherein all her friends were entered for to keep her servant’s name a secret. “Ay,” says Mrs Diony, “I have heard something on’t from my sister Packworth.” “All the world knows on’t save myself,” says I. “Pray, madam, do me the favour to tell me the gentleman’s name.” And here I thought I must have success at last, but Mrs Diony shook her head, and looked at me with an air of pleasantry. “I scarce think Mrs Brandon would be well pleased if I so did,” says she. “No, sir, take the advice of one that knows your cousin as well, I may say, as any, and put your question to her again. I believe I don’t err in saying that she regrets this misunderstanding as much as yourself, and I would counsel you to take her apart as soon as you can, and ask her what you desire to know, refusing to let her depart until she have given you an answer.”