“Temple may not be a Talleyrand; but he is certainly as brilliant as the charming curate,” said Marion, tartly. “Oh, poor George!” cried Nelly; and her cheek flushed, while she tried to seem indifferent. “Nobody ever called him a genius. When one says he is very good-looking and very good-humored, _tout est dit!_” “He is very much out of place as a parson.” “Granted. I suspect he thinks so himself.” “Men usually feel that they cannot take orders without some stronger impulse than a mere desire to gain a livelihood.” “I have never talked to him on the matter; but perhaps he had no great choice of a career.” “He might have gone into the army, I suppose? He'd have found scores of creatures there with about his own measure of intelligence.” “I fancied you liked George, Marion,” said the other. And there was something half tender, half reproachful, in her tone. “I liked him so far, that it was a boon to find anything so like a gentleman in this wild savagery; but if you mean that I would have endured him in town, or would have noticed him in society, you are strangely mistaken.” “Poor George!” and there was something comic in her glance as she sighed these words out. “There; you have won,” said Marion, throwing down her mallet. “I must go and hear what Temple is going to do. It would be a great blessing to see a man of the world and a man of mark in this dreary spot, and I hope papa will not lose the present opportunity to secure him.” “Are you alone, Nelly?” said her eldest brother, some time after, as he came up, and found her sitting, lost in thought, under a tree. “Yes. Marion got tired and went in, and Temple went to ask papa about inviting some high and mighty personage who chances to be in our neighborhood.” “Who is he?” “Lord Culduff, he called him.” “Oh! a tremendous swell; an ambassador somewhere. What brings him down here?” “I forget. Yes! it was something about a mine; he has found tin, or copper, or coal, I don't remember which, on some property of his here. By the way, Augustus, do you really think George L'Estrange a fool?” “Think him a fool?” “I mean,” said she, blushing deeply, “Marion holds his intelligence so cheaply that she is quite shocked at his presuming to be in orders.” “Well, I don't think him exactly what Temple calls an _esprit fort_, but he is a very nice fellow, very companionable, and a thorough gentleman in all respects.” “How well you have said it, dear Augustus,” said she, with a face beaming with delight. “Where are you off to? Where are you going?” “I am going to see the yearlings, in the paddock below the river.” “May I go with you, Gussy?” said she, drawing her arm within his. “I do like a brisk walk with you; and you always go like one with a purpose.” CHAPTER V. CONFIDENTIAL TALK. Temple found his father in his study, deeply engaged with a mass of papers and letters, and by the worn and fatigued expression of his face showing that he had passed a day of hard work.