Having satisfied himself that he fairly estimated the ladies of the house, he set himself, with all the ingenuity of true speculation, to account for the traits of character he had so good-naturedly conferred on them. “Living in a remote, half-civilized neighborhood,” thought he, “without any intercourse save with some country squires and their wives and daughters, they have learned, naturally enough, to feel their own superiority to those about them; and possessing a place with such claims to respect from association, as well as from its actual condition, they, like all people who have few equals and no superiors, give themselves a license to think and act independent of the world's prescription, and become, consequently, very intolerable to every one unaccustomed to acknowledge their sovereignty. I heartily wish Lionel had left these worthy people to my own unassisted appreciation of them; his flourish of trumpets has sadly spoiled the effect of the scene for me;” and with this not over gracious reflection he proceeded to dress for the day. “The squire has been twice at the door this morning, sir,” said Lin wood, as he arranged the dressing apparatus on the table; “he would not let me awake you, however, and at last said, 'Present my cordial respects to Mr. Forester, and say, that if he should like to ride with the hounds, he'll find a horse ready for him, and a servant who will show him the way.'” “And are they out already?” said Forester. “Yes, sir, gone two hours ago; they breakfasted at eight, and I heard a whipper-in say they 'd twelve miles to go to the first cover.” “Why, it appeared to me that they were up all night.” “They broke up at four, sir, and except two gentlemen that are gone over to Westport on business, but to be back for dinner, they're all mounted to-day.” “And what is the dinner-hour, Linwood?” “Six, sir, to the minute.” “And it's now only eleven,” said Forester to himself, with a wearied sigh; “how am I to get through the rest of the day? Are the ladies in the drawing-room, Linwood?” “Ladies! no, sir; there are no ladies in the house as I hear of.” “So much the better, then,” thought his master; “passive endurance is better any day than active boredom, and with all respect for Lady Eleanor and her daughter, I 'd rather believe them such as Lionel paints them, than have the less flattering impression nearer acquaintance would as certainly leave behind it.” “The old butler wishes to know if you will breakfast in the library, sir?” asked Linwood. “Yes, that will do admirably; delighted I am to hear there is such a thing here,” muttered he; for already he had suffered the disappointment the host's appearance had caused him to tinge all his thoughts with bitterness, and make him regard his visit as an act of purgatorial endurance.