Mr. Watkins lasted about a fortnight; during that time very few things could be said or done without suggesting to Blanche some little anecdote of this gentleman; and as these tales generally tended to set forth either some deficiency, or some positive vice in that faithless person; sometimes calling in question his spelling, and sometimes his morality, Margaret felt often desirous to turn the subject for very shame; but Blanche informed her that it was a comfort to talk about him, and she could not reasonably refuse her that source of consolation. At the end of the fortnight, Blanche admitted to Mrs. Somerton, that "Watkins" had a red nose. This had been a point strongly contested between mother and daughter for the last fourteen days previous; for Mrs. Somerton thought it her duty to depreciate a man who had failed to make her daughter an offer; and Blanche warmly defended him from a charge which his decided talent for drinking rendered, at least, probable. The cause of this change was very soon explained. Blanche had found another officer. She had been introduced to him at a friend's house, and she very soon managed to bring him to the Vicarage. When he had nothing in the world to do, it was amusing enough to lounge away a morning, flirting with Blanche. This was worse than the other annoyance to Margaret. It was bad enough to hear incessantly of the absent lover; but now, you had not only to hear of him all day long in his absence, but to bear his presence, at least, three days in the week. And Blanche would insist upon Margaret's keeping her company. "Don't run away, my dearest creature," said she; "it looks so odd; it really seems as if you thought the man wanted to propose to me." Margaret had began to enjoy her walks in the pretty garden and quiet meadows of the Vicarage. It was a bright, fresh October. She was always alive to the beauties of the country; but how could she enjoy the mossy walks and tall rustling trees with the constant fear of being joined by that tiresome Mr. Compton. And then, if she sat, Blanche would insist on sitting too. If she said she felt chilly and began to walk again, up started Blanche and her cavalier, and they all three set off walking together. And this Mr. Compton was afflicted with the most boundless and uncultivated spirits. His laugh was a shriek. He would spring up in the air like a stag; he would fall on the grass, to give vent to his mirth; he talked incessantly, and always the most extravagant nonsense. He would practice dances with Blanche, while poor Margaret played to them; and then, at every mistake, there were fresh fits of laughter, which made him stamp about the room until they subsided.