The friends reached Brosedale just as Sir Peter hoped they would not be late. The house--which was an old one, so largely added to, altered, and improved, that scarcely any of the original could be traced--was very like all rich men's houses where the women have no distinctive taste--handsome, ornate, and commonplace. Lady Fergusson was a fine, well-preserved woman, richly dressed in silk and lace. She received Major Moncrief and his friend with much cordiality, and presented them to her daughters, Miss Helen and Miss Gertrude Saville, and also to a nephew and niece who were staying in the house. "My eldest daughter, who was with me when we had the pleasure of meeting you in town, is staying with her aunt, Lady Ashleigh, in Wiltshire," said the hostess to Moncrief. "She is quite enthusiastic about archæology, and Ashleigh is in itself a treasure of antiquity." Miss Helen Saville was a grand, tall brunette, with rich red lips and cheeks, luxuriant if somewhat coarse black hair, and large, round black eyes, that looked every one and everything full in the face. Her sister was smaller, less dark, and in every way a faint copy of the great original. The niece was a plain girl, with good points, dressed effectively; and the nephew a young lieutenant in some hussar regiment, who considered himself bound to fraternize with Wilton. The latter was told off to take in Miss Saville by Sir Peter, a small man, whose close-clipped white whiskers looked like mutton-chop patterns thickly floured. He had a quiet, not to say depressed air, and a generally dry-salted aspect, which made Wilton wonder, as he stood talking with him before the fire, at the stuff out of which the conquerors of fortune are sometimes made. "What a beautiful country this is!" said Wilton to his neighbor, as his soup-plate was removed, and Ganymede, in well-fitting broadcloth, filled his glass. "Strangers admire it, but it is by no means a good neighborhood." "Indeed! I suppose, then, you are driven in upon your own resources." "Such as they are," with a smile displaying white but not regular teeth. "No doubt they are numerous. Let me see; what are a young lady's resources--crochet, croquet, and curates, healing the sick and feeding the hungry?" "Oh, I do none of those things. The crochet, croquet, and curates, are my sister's amusements, and I dislike both the sick and the hungry, although I have no objection to subscribe for them." "Ah! you are terribly destitute; and you do not ride, or I should have met you." "Yes, I am very fond of riding; but we have scarcely returned a week, and I have had a bad cold." "Perhaps you draw?" asked Wilton, approaching his object from afar. "No; I have always preferred music. None of us care for drawing, except my youngest sister." "Indeed!" (looking across the table), "that is a pleasant variety from the crochet, croquet, and curates." "No; not Gertrude--I mean Isabel. She is still in the school-room."