For that matter, Agneta did such justice to her training and played her part so well, that Oliver felt inclined to think she was lost as a simple squire’s wife, and ought to have been a duchess, if not a princess of some reigning royal family, or a queen in her own person. She exhibited precisely the proper amount of feeling for the occasion, without being overcome. She was touched, she was gently courteous and even friendly to Oliver, without overstepping the limits which the circumstance of her having become Mr. Amyott’s wife imposed upon Harry Stanhope’s sister. She alluded simply and sadly to ‘the melancholy event’ of Fan’s death. She enquired with interest when he had heard from Harry, and expressed her earnest good wishes for the welfare of ‘the dear little baby.’ She broke off to thank him with grave sincerity for all he had done for her brothers—though, with regard to the last graciously grateful speech, Oliver could not avoid the impression that Agneta considered him in some respects the obliged person, by having had it in his power to serve the Stanhopes. When the conversation strayed to more general topics, Mrs. Amyott referred with a blending of judicious candour and tact—while her slightly stooping, and slightly grey, but well-preserved husband was paying her the lover-like compliment of listening with pleased attention to every word she said—to the changes which had taken place in the Mill court since she was there last. She displayed thus with perfect serenity a considerable acquaintance with the landmarks. ‘Surely, Mr. Constable, there have been some boughs lopped from the willow; and, ah! you have had the old seat, which I used to call “the Pilgrim’s seat,” removed from under the mulberry-bush!’ Every word was in such unexceptionable taste; Oliver was let down so gracefully and gradually from the terms which Agneta Stanhope had insisted on establishing between them, during those vanished summer days, that he was inclined to acquiesce in the squire’s conviction that his last acquired gem was the most finely polished in his whole collection of treasures. In comparison, Mr. Amyott’s _rôle_ required little from the performer, but he also acquitted himself admirably, with just the degree of admission of Oliver’s claims which became a gentleman who would not disallow an obligation, and yet who viewed, with reason, the whole connection between Copley Grange Farm and Friarton Mill as a foolish mistake. But he, too, did not refuse to recollect the past. He made some cursory mention of his wife’s brothers having been his tenants in the farm; nay, he said with a smile in reference to his recent marriage, that the temporary arrangement had helped in bringing about what was for him a most fortunate as well as permanent result. His first introduction to his wife had arisen from it. Such trifling causes are, in some sort, the motive power in shaping out our destinies.