So things did take their course; and acting on impulse, with out any definite idea, or decided plan, Charles Huyton continued to come and go, between the Ferns and the Vicarage, all through the autumn and ensuing winter. He finished his house, and arranged his grounds, and returned his neighbors’ visits, sometimes accepting invitations to dinner, sometimes even appearing at a ball, being exceedingly admired, and very much courted, and making himself universally agreeable when he did go into society; but withal preserving a sort of mystery about his usual pursuits and amusements, which rendered him _piquant_ and interesting in the highest degree. He never gave parties of any kind, not even to gentlemen; did not preserve his game, and did not either hunt or shoot; men were as much puzzled to account for his oddities as women. The neighborhood――that is, the part of the country inhabited by gentlemen’s families――lay almost entirely in the opposite direction to Hurstdene, and so far removed from the vicinity of the Vicarage, that the length and frequency of his visits to the Duncans passed unheeded and unheard of. All his leisure time was spent there, reading, drawing, teaching, gardening for them, and with them, and discussing his own plans and projects. Inspired by Hilary, and advised by her father, he did some very useful things: he built and endowed a school at the edge of his park, for some of the scattered population around; he improved the dwellings of the poor tenants, and, in short, fell in with all the usual schemes of benevolence patronized by a well-meaning landholder. But the hand that guided him was not at all apparent, and nobody could be more ignorant of her influence than Hilary herself: she really believed that all the right things Mr. Huyton did came from his own right feelings and good principles. Indeed this was one great secret of her power; he could see through the designs of the mammas who invited him to their houses, and their daughters who took such interest in his house, his park, his garden, or his school. He felt that they only cared for him because he was rich, and he believed that had he offered his hand and fortune to any of these elegant young women, it would have been unhesitatingly accepted on the shortest notice, and with the greatest triumph. With Hilary it was different; kind and obliging as she was, unreserved in many respects, frank and simple, he by no means felt sure that she loved him; on the contrary, as months rolled on, and the graceful girl grew and developed into a very handsome and elegant woman, while her mind matured in proportion as her person improved, he became more dubious on the question which he often asked himself, “Would she ever consent to become his wife?”