Richard was a gay-mannered young fellow and much liked, but he was not very particular. He played billiards at the Bell Inn with Valentine Chandler, with young Scott, and with other idlers; he hired horses, and dashed across country on their backs; he spent money in all ways. When his own ready money was gone he went into debt, and people came to the Captain to ask him to liquidate it. This startled and angered the old post-captain as no twinge of gout had ever yet done. "Something must be done with Dick," said Mrs. MacEveril. "Of course it must," her husband wrathfully retorted; "but what the deuce is it to be?" "Can't you get John Paul to take him into his office as a temporary thing? It would keep him out of mischief." Mrs. MacEveril's suggestion bore fruit. For the present, until something eligible should "turn up," Dick was placed in the lawyer's office as a copying clerk. Mr. Paul made a favour of taking him in; but he and Captain MacEveril had been close friends for many a year. Dick wrote a bold, clear hand, good for copying deeds. He and Oliver became intimate. It is said that a fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind, and they could feel for one another. Both were down in life, both had poverty-stricken pockets. They were of the same age, twenty-one, and in appearance were not dissimilar--fair of face, slight in person. So that Oliver Preen needed no plea for haunting Islip three or four times a week. "He went over to see Dick MacEveril," would have been his answer had any inquisitive body inquired what he did there: while, in point of fact, he went hoping to see Emma Paul--if by delightful chance he might obtain that boon. Thus matters were going on: Oliver, shut up the earlier part of the day in the Buttery with his father, answering letters, and what not; in the latter part of it he would be at Islip, or perhaps with Jane at North Villa. Sometimes they would walk home together; or, if they could have the gig, Oliver drove his sister back in it. But for the love he bore Emma, he would have found his life intolerable; nothing but depression, mortification, disappointment: but when Love takes up its abode in the heart the dreariest lot becomes one of sunshine. III The garden attached to North Villa was large and very old-fashioned: a place crowded with trees and shrubs, intersected with narrow paths and homely flowers. The Malvern hills could be seen in the distance, as beautiful a sight in the early morning, with the lights and shadows lying upon them, as the world can show.