"I am several years older than my brother and I had arranged everything for my leaving him, but I never once thought of his going first and leaving me. Ah well, I am thankful that in the course of nature I cannot be long behind him. Mr. Penrose is a good young man, and I think he will be kind to the poor folks." "Mr. Penrose!" said I. And then it came out that my Lord had promised the living to Mr. Penrose. It is a great piece of preferment for so young a man, the living being a very good one; and I am glad he is so well provided for. My Lord joked with him a little, at supper, and said somewhat about a mistress for the parsonage; at which Lady Jemima said hotly enough, that Mr. Penrose was not a marrying priest. He cast a glance at her, as if he were not over well-pleased by her interference, and said, very soberly, that he counted not the house his own, so long as the corpse of its former master lay under its roof, and therefore he had no need to take any order about a mistress for the same as yet. Whereat my Lady smiled approvingly, and my Lord seemed somewhat dashed. I thought it was very prettily said of him, for my part. I wish he had a good sensible wife. He would not have nearly so many absurd quiddities if he were married. _August 4._ Doctor Parnell was buried this day—in the church-yard, as he desired, and in a spot which he himself selected long ago. Mistress Parnell told me afterward it was by the side of a young lady, a cousin of the Mrs. Corbet that then was, who died more than forty years ago. It seems there were some love passages between them, but she being caught in a heavy storm of rain, took a quick consumption and died, her lover attending her, and cheering her last moments by his prayers. Since that time he would never hear of taking a wife, though some of good family were proposed to him, he being accounted rich, but he would have none of them, though he was a great promoter of marriage in the parish, and always made the brides a present. Methought a pretty story of constancy. _August 6._ Here is a change of affairs with a witness! Mr. Penrose has made up his mind with respect to a mistress for the parsonage, and upon whom should his choice fall but on my unworthy self. I never was so astounded in all my life, as when my Lady told me (for he broke the matter to her in the first place). And I told her I thought she must be mistaken, that he must have meant somebody else. "I hardly know who else he could mean, unless you think Lady Jemima was the person," answered my Lady, smiling. "Besides, he was quite too explicit, and too much in earnest to leave room for a mistake. 'Tis your own little self he wants, sweetheart, and nobody else." "Then, my Lady, 'his want must be his master,' as they say in our country," I said. "I cannot marry Mr. Penrose."