It looked so like home, that old garden, as they entered it, they could almost fancy they heard the good rector's step in the well-known walks, and by the neat bee-hives; but no, the shutters were closed, and through their creeks issued a small stream of bright light, just giving a sly hint of the comfort they left in the snug parlour within. To raise the window of the glass-door, and to spring into the passage, was but the work of one moment, and in the next, they were in the snug parlour itself, and shaking hands with Mr. Ware and his sister with a heartiness which nothing could exceed. And how the good man's face glowed when he welcomed his dear old pupil back, and, in the warmth of that one greeting, assured himself that he was "just as he used to be when he was a boy." And how, not altogether, or even one at a time, scarcely in any connection either, and certainly not as long stories are sometimes told, they made him understand why they had come, and all the changes which had taken place--and best of all, that Mabel was coming back to be mistress of Aston Manor, and Lucy--happy hearted Lucy--was to be Clair's wife, would all take too long to tell. But that they were a thoroughly comfortable and happy party, that night, there is no doubt. Then, as it grew later, Mr. Clifford, the young architect, returned from a long day, spent with some friends, and Hargrave was delighted to see him. "Your work has been done almost with the rapidity of magic," he said, speaking kindly to him, for it had been his first essay. "I was quite pleased with what I saw as we lingered through the village." Mr. Clifford looked much gratified by his approval. "I am come down," Hargrave continued, "partly for the purpose of letting these cottages to those most deserving, and most honest; and you, my dear sir, must assist me," he said, turning to Mr. Ware; "my bailiff has already given notice, that they should all assemble in the large room, at the new inn, to-morrow, and you must come with me to see that I do justice." "Most willingly, my dear Hargrave," replied Mr. Ware, whose countenance looked one continued beam of delight. "And the next morning," continued Hargrave, "we are going to run away with you, as we cannot think of being married by any one but you." Mr. Ware looked still more pleased, as he, at first, modestly declined, but very easily suffered himself to be persuaded to take the office assigned him.