"Well, what sort of fellow is this cousin of yours? I suppose you met him last night? I never thought we should tumble into the trammels of polite society when I recommended these shootings to you. I have scarcely seen you the last ten days. What's come to you, lad?" So growled Moncrief one morning as he smoked the after-breakfast cigar, previous to turning out for a run with the "Friarshire." "Oh! St. George Wilton is rather an amusing fellow; he is tolerably good-looking, and has lots of small talk; one of those men who do not believe much in anything, I fancy, except self and self-interest, but for dear self-sake not disposed to rub other people the wrong way. He is a favorite with the ladies--cuts me out with the fair Helen." "Hum! I doubt that. I do not think you would let him if he tried; for of course _that's_ the attraction to Brosedale." "Is it?" returned Wilton, carelessly, as he prepared a cigar. "Yes; I know you think I am as blind as a mole, but I can see there is something that takes you to Brosedale. It's not Sir Peter, though he's the best of the lot. It's not my lady; and it cannot be that imp of a boy you are so fond of carrying pictures to--I suppose for a 'ploy to get into the interior, though they are sweet enough upon you without that; so it must be that girl." "Your reasoning is so admirable," returned Wilton, laughing good-humoredly, "that I should like to hear a little more." "Eh!" said the major, looking up at him curiously. "Well, my lad, I am only anxious for your own sake. Helen Saville is not the style of woman Lord St. George would like; the family are by no means _sans reproche;_ and--I don't fancy her myself." "That is conclusive," replied Wilton, gravely. "But make your mind easy; I am not going to marry Helen Saville, nor do I think she expects me to do so." "What she expects, God knows, but there is something not all square about you, Wilton." "My dear fellow, do you want me to call you out?" "You must just go your own way, which, no doubt, you would in any case; but I am off on Monday next to pay my sister a visit. I have put her off from time to time, but I must go now." "By Jove, I shall be quite desolate! And will you not return, old fellow?" "I think not. At any rate, I shall not be able to come north again till near Christmas; and I hardly suppose you will be here then." "That depends," said Wilton, thoughtfully. "On what?" asked the major, quickly. "Oh! the sport--my own whims--the general attractions of the neighborhood." "----the attractions of the neighborhood!" cried Moncrief, profanely. "Why do you not make up to Lady Mary or Lady Susan Mowbray? They are nice girls and no mistake; just the very thing for you. But I am a fool to trouble myself about you; only I have always looked after you since you joined. However, you are old enough to take care of yourself."