Left as Hilary was almost entirely to her own discretion, it was not surprising that she sometimes made mistakes of conduct, acting on an innocence and ignorance of the world beyond her own village, which made her singularly unsuspicious of evil, and blind to imprudence. It certainly was a mistake to allow such unlimited and unreserved intercourse between Mr. Ufford and her own family; or rather, perhaps, the mistake was in those who placed so young a man in a situation where such intercourse was unavoidable. She herself heartily wished he were married; she missed Mrs. Paine more every month of their separation, and especially after Sybil had left Hurstdene; for Gwyneth was so much more reserved and silent than her sister, besides being younger, that she could not entirely fill her place; and her feelings were so enthusiastic, and so little regulated by reason, when she did express them, that Hilary had some trouble in guiding her at all. Of course, Miss Duncan’s bright spot in the future was the _Pandanus_; for however unremitting and unreserved a correspondence might be, it was impossible for the letters of a lover in the West Indies to supply all the daily counsel, the prudence, and the judgment which she needed to guide her; and what could possibly stand instead of the charm of his personal presence? Mr. Ufford’s father had died about a year after that gentleman had settled at Hurstdene, and his elder brother, after some occasional and rather lengthy visits to the village, had just gone abroad, partly for his own health, which was precarious, still more for his daughter’s, which was decidedly delicate. Their mother had died of consumption, the second son, too, had shared the same fate, and many people thought the present Lord Dunsmoor had inherited the same weakness. James Ufford appeared the most robust of the family, and there seemed considerable probability that the title would eventually devolve on him. Not that this idea had ever occurred to the sisters at the Vicarage, who, from seeing him every day, observing his simple habits, and quiet, gentlemanlike indolence, quite forgot that he belonged by birth to another sphere than themselves, and might some day rise to a circle where they could not hope to reach.