Mrs. Mornington's keen perceptions took a swift review of the position. A much better match than poor Allan! Discombe, with revenues that had accumulated at compound interest during a long minority, must be better than Beechhurst, a mere villa, and an estate in Suffolk of which Mrs. Mornington knew very little except that it was hedged in and its glory overshadowed by the lands of a Most Noble and a Right Honourable or two. Discombe! The Squire of Discombe was a personage in that little world of Matcham; and the world of Matcham was all on the earthward side of the universe for which Miss Mornington cared. Suzette's shilly-shallying little ways had answered admirably, it seemed, after all. How wisely Providence orders things, if we will only fold our hand and wait. "Don't let me interrupt your musical studies, young people," exclaimed the good lady. "I only came to know if Suzette was going to the golf-ground." "Of course I am going, auntie, if you are walking that way and want company." It was the kind of day on which only hat and gloves are needed for outdoor toilette; and Suzette's neat little hat was ready for her in the hall. They all three went off to the links together, along the dusty road and through the busy little village--busy just for one morning hour--and to the common beyond, the long stretch of common that skirted the high-road, and which everybody declared to have been created on purpose for golf. Mrs. Mornington talked about Allan nearly all the way--her regret that he had extended his travels, regret felt mostly on his mother's account. "I think he always meant to cross from sea to sea," Geoffrey answered carelessly. "His mother ought to have been prepared for that. He read Trivier's book, and that inspired him. And really crossing Africa means very little nowadays. One's people at home needn't worry about it." "Mr. Patrington did not find it so easy." "Poor Patrington! No; he was unlucky. There is no reckoning with fever. That is the worst enemy." "Did you bring home a letter for Lady Emily?" "No. Allan wrote from Ujiji. That letter would reach England much quicker than I could." "But you will go to see her, I dare say. No doubt it would be a comfort to her to talk to you about her son--to hear all those details which letters so seldom give." "I will go if she ask me. Suzette has written to tell her of my return." "She will ask you, I am sure. Or she may come to Beechhurst, as she came only a month ago, in the hope of hearing of Allan's movements from your letters to your mother." "I was never so good a correspondent, or so good a son, as Allan." They were at the golf-ground by this time, and here Mrs. Mornington left them; and meeting five of her particular friends on the way, told them how a strange thing had happened, and that Geoffrey Wornock, who had left England broken-hearted because Suzette had rejected him, had come back suddenly from Africa, and had been accepted.