not a corner of his life upon which some one interest or another did not lay a claim. He had the gravest occupations on his hands. He might make for himself a position of high influence and importance in his county; and could scarcely be insignificant if he tried. And all this had come to him without any training for it. His very habits of mind were not English; even in the midst of these serious thoughts the village green, which was at his left hand, beyond the Church and the Rectory, caught his eye, and a momentary speculation came across him, whether the village people danced there on Sundays? whether the fairs were held there, or the tombola, or something to represent them? and then he stopped and laughed at himself. What would Mr. Fielding say? Thus Edgar had come to be Squire Arden without even the habit of being an Englishman. The sense of injustice which had weighed upon him all his life might have embittered his beginning now, had his mind been less elastic. But nature had been so good to him that he was able to toss these dreary thoughts aside, as he would have tossed a ball, before he went in to see Miss Somers. “Things will come right somehow,” he said to himself. Such was his light-hearted philosophy; while Clare stood grave and silent at the door to meet him, with a seriousness which would have been more in accordance with his difficulties than with hers. What troubled her was the question--Would he be a radical, and introduce innovations, ignore the mightiness of his family, conduct himself as if his name were anything else than Arden? This sufficed to plant the intensest seriousness, with almost a cast of severity in it, upon the brow of Clare. “Didn’t I tell you exactly how it would happen?” said the Doctor, when Edgar was gone; “no sentiment to speak of--utter absence of revengeful feelings: settling down as if it was the most natural thing in the world--bygones to be bygones, and a fair start for the future. Didn’t I tell you? That boy is worth his weight in gold.” “You certainly told me,” said Mr. Fielding, faltering, “something very like what has come to pass; but I don’t receive your theory, for all that. No, no; depend upon it, the simplest explanation is always the best. One can see at a glance he is like his mother’s family. Poor thing! I don’t think she was too happy; and that must have intensified old Arden’s remorse.” “Old Arden’s fiddlestick!” said the Doctor. “I wouldn’t give _that_ for his remorse. He had his reasons you may be sure. Character has been my favourite study all my life, as you know; and if that frank, open-hearted, well-dispositioned boy ever came out of an Arden’s nest, I expect to hear of a dove in an eagle’s. He has justified every word I ever said of him. I declare to you, Fielding, I am as fond of him as if he were my own boy.”