Mrs. Ogden, now that the engagement was a _fait accompli_, expressed the most perfect readiness to quit Milend and go and live in "th' Cream-pot," which, as the reader is already aware, was the expressively rich appellative of the richest of her little farms. But such was the amiable and truly filial consideration displayed by Margaret Anison towards her future mother-in-law, that she would on no account hear of such an arrangement. "Mrs. Ogden," she said, "had always been accustomed to Milend, and it would be quite wrong to turn her out;" indeed she "would not hear of such a thing." So the obedient Jacob hurried on the construction of a mansion worthy of the young lady who had honored him with her affections--a mansion to be replete with all modern comforts and conveniences, such as abounded at Arkwright Lodge. CHAPTER XXXII. MR. STEDMAN RELENTS. Philip Stanburne's life had not been settled or happy since the date of his visit to Derbyshire. The old tranquil existence at the Peel had become impossible for him now. It was intolerable to him to be cut off from all direct communication with Miss Stedman, and one day he went boldly to Chesnut Hill. He went there, not under cover of the darkness, as cowardly lovers do, but in the broad openness of such daylight as is ever to be seen in Sootythorn. I think, however, that it would have needed still greater courage on his part to present himself there about eight o'clock in the evening; for in the day-time Mr. Stedman was usually at his factory, whereas about eight in the evening a friend might count upon the pleasure of finding him at Chesnut Hill. The servant-maid who opened the door to Philip showed him at once into the drawing-room. "What name shall I say, sir?" she asked. Philip gave his name, and waited. He had not inquired whether Miss Stedman was at home--he felt a slight embarrassment in inquiring about Miss Stedman--and the servant on her part had simply asked him to walk in. He had waited about five minutes, when a heavy step became audible in the passage, and the door of the room was opened. The Reverend Abel Blunting stood before him. "Pray sit down, sir," said the reverend gentleman; "I hope you are quite well. I hope I see you well. Mr. Stedman is not at home--he is down at the mill--but I am expecting him every minute." Mr. Blunting's bland amiability ought no doubt to have awakened amiable feelings in Mr. Stanburne's breast, but, unfortunately, it had just the opposite effect. "I did not come here to see Mr. Stedman," he replied; "I came to see his daughter." Now Mr. Blunting was a powerful man, both physically and mentally, and a man by no means disposed to yield when he considered firmness to be a duty. In the present instance he _did_ consider it necessary to prevent an interview between Alice and her lover, and he quietly resolved to do so at all costs. "I am sorry," he said, "that you cannot see Miss Stedman." "Why cannot I see her? Is she not at home?"