Philip and the Colonel were both looking out of the window when he came, and before he entered the room, the Colonel found time to say, "Take Anison into your confidence--_he_'ll be your best man, he knows Stedman so well. Let me tell him all about it, will you? Do, now, let me." Philip consented, somewhat reluctantly, and Mr. Anison had not been in the room a quarter of an hour before the Colonel had put him in possession of the whole matter. Mr. Anison's face did not convey very much encouragement. "John Stedman is very inflexible," he said, "where his religious convictions are in any way concerned, and he is very strongly Protestant. I will do what I can with him. I don't see why he should make such a very determined opposition to the match--it would be a very good match for his daughter--but he is a sort of man that positively enjoys sacrificing his interests and desires to his views of duty. If I've any advice to offer, it will be to leave him to himself for a while, and especially not to do any thing to conciliate him. His daughter _may_ bring him round in her own way; she's a clever girl, though she's a quiet one--and she can manage him better than anybody else." When Mr. Anison got back to Arkwright Lodge, he had a talk with Mrs. Anison about Philip's prospects. "_I_ shouldn't have objected to him as a son-in-law," said the husband; "he'll be reasonable enough, and let his wife go to her own church." "I wish he'd taken a fancy to Madge," said Mrs. Anison. "Have you any particular reason for wishing so? Do you suspect any thing in Madge herself? Do you think she cares for him?" Mrs. Anison looked grave, and, after a moment's hesitation, said, "I'm afraid there _is_ something. I'm afraid she _does_ think about him more than she ought to do. She is more irritable and excitable than she used to be, and there is a look of care and anxiety on her face which is quite painful sometimes. And yet I fancy that when Alice was here she rather encouraged young Stanburne to propose to Alice. She did it, no doubt, from anxiety to know how far he would go in that direction, and now he's gone farther than she wished." CHAPTER XXV. WENDERHOLME IN FESTIVITY. At length the eve of the great day arrived on which the Twentieth Royal Lancashire was to possess its colors--those colors which (according to the phrase so long established by the usage of speech-making subalterns) it was prepared to dye with all its blood--yes, to the very last drop thereof.