The road to Hunston was a pleasant road. They went through the park first, which was in all the glory of autumn colouring, the oaks and the beeches a wonder to see, and even the slim elms all golden standing up against a blue afternoon sky, in which already there began to appear faint beginnings of purple and crimson as the sun got westward; and after that the road ran between other parks, and more and more wealth of russet or of golden foliage. But Mr. Mountford was not a very entertaining companion. Heathcote when he was ‘at home’ was in very good society--in society, that is to say, which was agreeable, where there was much talk and great freedom of intercourse, and since he had been at Mount he had found pleasure in the society of the girls, one of whom amused him, while one interested him. Mr. Mountford, however, did neither the one nor the other. He indicated the different houses with his riding-whip as they passed. ‘That’s Newton-Magna. The Newtons once contested the county with us. My grandfather married a Newton--they are, therefore, connections. This is where old Lady Prayrey Poule lives. She has just made a ridiculous marriage, of which everybody is talking. I don’t know who the man is. There is Meadowlands to the right, and that’s young Lassell’s place, whom I suppose you have heard of.’ This was the style of his conversation. Sometimes he varied it by giving his kinsman an account of the value of the livings and the goodness of the land. ‘It is worth so much an acre on this side of the river, and not half on the other side. The land up my way is generally good, and the livings are excellent. In my parish the living has always been held by a younger son, but naturally there has been no younger son. Ah! you think that Edward;--well, if I had known more of Edward, I might perhaps--but he is quite young; there is plenty of time.’ Between the intervals, however, when he was not engaged with these local details, Mr. Mountford had not much to say. He was not brilliant in himself, and he was preoccupied. He had all the air of a man who was going, as his wife said, to tamper with his will. When his companion spoke to him he gave short answers: his thoughts were somewhere else. When they approached the town he became still more brief in his indications. ‘The church is considered fine, I believe, and the High Street is a nice street. I am going to Loseby’s, who is my lawyer. He has had all the Mount affairs in his hands since ever I can remember, and much longer--he and his father before him. He’ll like to make your acquaintance; but in the meantime I have some business with him. Perhaps you would like to look about the town a little.’