Here Mr. Oliver paused to take breath. Markham thanked him for his information; part of which was not new to him, and part of which he hardly believed. He found it very difficult to believe that Clara should ever be attached to such a ridiculous coxcomb as that described by Mr. Oliver. One of the parties he felt assured must have been misrepresented. Either the young gentleman was not such a rank coxcomb as had been described, or the young lady was not really and sincerely in love with him. Markham, for the sake of his own reputation and that he might have a good opinion of himself, was absolutely compelled to this conclusion, for he could not admit that he himself could ever have been so weak and undiscerning as to be attached for a moment to a young lady who was capable of admiring such a ridiculous coxcomb. In order, however, to gain information from as many sources as possible, Markham went into the notoriously gossiping and censorious town of Brigland, and called upon Mr. Denver, from whom he hoped to extract a more agreeable account than had been given to him by Oliver: for if Clara was to be another's, he hoped at least that that other would be a man of some respectability and solidity of character, and not an absolute blockhead or an egregious coxcomb. From Mr. Denver he received, alas! no consolation. The same tale that he had heard at the Abbey was repeated at the parsonage, and with additional particulars and more mortifying aggravations. For the truth is, that Mr. Denver had received his information from Mrs. Denver, who was indebted for her knowledge of those interesting facts to Mrs. Price, who acknowledged with much gratitude Mrs. Flint as her authority, and it was from Oliver's own self that Mrs. Flint derived her information. Thereupon, Horatio Markham, who thought that what all the world said must be true, began to be very much mortified and sadly perplexed. Notwithstanding the cool temperate manner in which he had borne the recollection of Clara, still, when he revisited the place where he had first seen her, and recollected the readings and quotations with which they had entertained each other, he could not avoid feeling a revival of old emotions and hopes. CHAPTER XII. "'Gainst love's unerring arts there's no defence-- They wound the blockhead and the man of sense." FAWKES. The time was now arrived for Markham to renew his attention to professional pursuits. His native air soon restored his health in all its firmness and vigor; and he had been but a short time in London, before he found that his temporary absence from England had not materially interfered with his professional success. He had, indeed, some reason to suppose that this absence, or circumstances connected with it, had been the means of forwarding him in his profession.