At that moment, too late to avoid her, Lady Northmoor, pale and anxious, came up the path and was upon them. 'Your uncle is asleep,' she began, but then, starting, 'Oh, Conny. Poor Whitewing. Did you find him?' Constance hung her head and did not speak. Then her aunt saw how it was. 'Herbert! you must have shot him by mistake; your uncle will be so grieved.' Herbert was not base enough to let this pass. He muttered, 'A fellow would not take my word for it, so I had to show him.' She looked at him very sadly. 'Oh, Herbert, I did not think you would have made that a reason for vexing your uncle!' The boy was more than half sorry under those gentle eyes. He muttered something about 'didn't think he would care.' She shook her head, instead of saying that she knew this was not the truth; and unable to bear the sting, he flung away from her, carrying the rook with him, and kicking the pebbles, trying to be angry instead of sorry. And just then came a summons to Lady Northmoor to see the doctor. Yet Herbert Morton was a better boy than he seemed at that moment; his errors were chiefly caused by understanding _noblesse oblige_ in a different way from his uncle. Moreover, it would have been better for him if his tutor had lived beyond the neighbourhood of Northmoor, where he heard, losing nothing in the telling, the remarks of the other pupils' mothers upon his uncle and aunt; more especially as it was not generally the highest order of boy that was to be found there. If he had heard what the fathers said, he would have learnt that, though shy and devoid of small talk, and of the art of putting guests together, Lord Northmoor was trusted and esteemed. He might perhaps be too easily talked down; he could not argue, and often gave way to the noisy Squire; but he was certain in due time to see the rights of a question, and he attended thoroughly to the numerous tasks of an active and useful county man, taking all the drudgery that others shirked. While, if by severe stress he were driven to public speaking, he could acquit himself far better than any one had expected. The Bishop and the Chairman of the Quarter Sessions alike set him down on their committees, not only for his rank, but for his industry and steadiness of work. Nor had any one breathed any imputation upon the possession of what used to be known as gentility, before that good word was degraded, to mean something more like what Mrs. Morton aspired to. Lord and Lady Northmoor might not be lively, nor a great accession to society, but the anticipations of either amusement or annoyance from vulgarity or arrogance were entirely disappointed. No one could call them underbred, or anything but an ingrain gentleman and lady, while there were a few who could uphold Lady Northmoor as thoroughly kind, sweet, sensible, and helpful to her utmost in all that was good.