He was not slow in availing himself of this permission, and he also followed the suggestion of his medical attendant in not travelling by the stage-coach. After astonishing the gate-keeper and his wife, and also the doctor, by his liberality for their attention to him, he started in a post-chaise for Smatterton. No accident or interruption impeded his progress, and at a late hour he arrived at Neverden, intending to pay his first visit to Mr Darnley, and designing through him to communicate to Penelope the knowledge of his arrival, and prepare her for the meeting. It was necessary for Mr Primrose to introduce himself to Mr Darnley. The stately rector of Neverden was in his study. He was not much of a reading man, he never had been; but still it was necessary that he should keep up appearances, and therefore he occasionally shut himself up in that room which he called his study; and there he would read for an hour or two some papers of the Spectator, or some old numbers of the Gentleman’s Magazine, or Blackstone’s Commentaries, or any other book of equal reputation for sound principles. There is a great advantage in reading those books that everybody talks about and nobody reads. It was also very proper that, if any of the parishioners called on the rector, it might be necessary to send for him “out of the study.” Sometimes also Mr Darnley gave audiences in his study, and then the unlearned agriculturists thought him a most wonderful man to have so many books, and so many large books too; some of them looking as big as the great bible in the church. Mr Darnley was not at all displeased to see the eyes of his humble parishioners, when they made their appearance in that apartment, wandering curiously and modestly round the room, and leering at the great glass bookcases and the eighteen-inch globes with as much wonderment as the gulls of two centuries back used to look at the dried alligators in a conjuror’s garret. How delicious is the sensation of superiority. When the name of Primrose was mentioned, Mr Darnley thought for a moment only of Penelope, and he screwed up his lips and looked wondrously wise. Mr Primrose entered the room with a light and lively step, and with a bright and cheerful countenance, taking it for granted that everybody in England must be as glad to see him as he was to see his native land again. Mr Darnley rose with great stateliness, and advanced a step or two towards the door. “Ah! Mr Darnley, your most humble servant; my name is Primrose, I received a letter from you about six weeks ago, which you did me the honor to write to me concerning the death of my poor brother Greendale.”