At this moment an old man, dressed in a rustic garb, but with a good-natured countenance and venerable white hair, entered the room. This was the farmer himself. Katherine introduced Richard to him as her benefactor; and the old man shook hands with our hero in a cordial manner, saying at the same time, "By all I have heard Miss Kate tell of you, sir, you must be an honour to any house, whether rich or poor, that you condescend to visit." Richard thanked the good-natured rustic for the well-meant compliment, and then communicated to him the fact that his wife was entitled to a legacy of five hundred pounds, which would be paid to her order in the course of a few days. The old man was overjoyed at these tidings, although his countenance partially fell when he heard the source whence the bequest emanated; but Richard convinced him that it would be unwise and absurd to refuse it. Mr. Bennet hastened up-stairs to communicate the news to his wife. While he was absent, the farmer's servant-girl entered to spread the table for the afternoon's repast. On the return of the old man to the room, the dinner was served up; and our hero sat down to table with the farmer and Katherine. A happy meal was that; and in the pure felicity which Katherine now enjoyed, Richard beheld to a considerable extent the results of his own goodness. How amply did the spectacle of that young creature's happiness reward him for all that he had done in her behalf! It was four o'clock in the afternoon when our hero took his leave of the old farmer and Miss Wilmot, in order to retrace his steps to Hounslow. CHAPTER CLXIII. THE ZINGAREES. The old farmer had offered to convey Richard to Hounslow in his own spring-cart, or to provide him with a guide to conduct him thither; but our hero felt so confident of being enabled to find his way back to the town, that he declined both offers. He walked on, across the fields, pondering upon various subjects,—Isabella, his brother, Katherine, Reginald Tracy's crimes, and the frightful suicide of Lady Cecilia Harborough,—and with his mind so intent upon these topics, that some time elapsed ere he perceived that he had fallen into a wrong path. He looked around; but not an object of which he had taken notice in the morning, when proceeding to the farm, could he now discover. Thus he had lost the only means which could assist his memory in regaining the road. As he stood upon a little eminence, gazing around to find some clue towards the proper direction which he should follow, a light blue wreath of smoke, rising from behind a hill at a short distance, met his eyes. "There must be a dwelling yonder," he said to himself; "I will proceed thither, and ask my way; or, if possible, obtain a guide."