Yes, he would go to Barton and carry out Mrs. Horneck's request. He would, moreover, be careful to refrain from any mention of the word duty, which would, the lady had declared, if introduced into his argument, tend to frustrate his intention. He went down to Barton by coach the next day. He felt very ill indeed, and he was not quite so confident as Mrs. Horneck that the result of his visit would be to restore him to perfect health. His last thought before leaving was that if Mary was made happy nothing else was worth a moment's consideration. She met him with a chaise driven by Bunbury, at the cross roads, where the coach set him down; and he could not fail to perceive that she was even more shocked than her mother had been at his changed appearance. While still on the top of the coach he saw her face lighted with pleasure the instant she caught sight of him. She waved her hand toward him, and Bunbury waved his whip. But the moment he had swung himself painfully and laboriously to the ground, he saw the look of amazement both on her face and on that of her brother-in-law. She was speechless, but it was not in the nature of Bunbury to be so. “Good Lord! Noll, what have you been doing to yourself?” he cried. “Why, you're not like the same man. Is he, Mary?” Mary only shook her head. “I have been ill,” said Oliver. “But I am better already, having seen you both with your brown country faces. How is my Little Comedy? Is she ready to give me another lesson in loo?” “She will give you what you need most, you may be certain,” said Bunbury, while the groom was strapping on his carpet-bag. “Oh! yes; we will take care that you get rid of that student's face of yours,” he continued. “Yes, and those sunken eyes! Good Lord! what a wreck you are! But we'll build you up again, never fear! Barton is the place for you and such as you, my friend.” “I tell you I am better already,” cried Goldsmith; and then, as the chaise drove off, he glanced at the girl sitting opposite to him. Her face had become pale, her eyes were dim. She had spoken no word to him; she was not even looking at him. She was gazing over the hedgerows and the ploughed fields. Bunbury rattled away in unison with the rattling of the chaise along the uneven road. He roared with laughter as he recalled some of the jests which had been played upon Goldsmith when he had last been at Barton; but though Oliver tried to smile in response, Mary was silent. When the chaise arrived at the house, however, and Little Comedy welcomed her guest at the great door, her high spirits triumphed over even the depressing effect of her husband's artificial hilarity. She did not betray the shock which she experienced on observing how greatly changed was her friend since he had been with her and her sister at Ranelagh. She met him with a laugh and a cry of “You have never come to us without your scratch-wig? If you have forgot it, you will e'en have to go back for it.”