amounted nearly to that; that he might hunt there and shoot there and
entertain his friends; that the family house in London should be given
up to him if he would marry properly; that an income almost without
limit should be provided for him, surely it would not have been too much
to demand that as a matter of course he should leave the army! But this
had not been done; and now there was an Irish Roman Catholic widow with
a daughter, with seal-shooting and a boat and high cliffs right in the
young man's way! Lady Scroope could not analyse it, but felt all the
danger as though it were by instinct. Partridge and pheasant shooting
on a gentleman's own grounds, and an occasional day's hunting with the
hounds in his own county, were, in Lady Scroope's estimation, becoming
amusements for an English gentleman. They did not interfere with the
exercise of his duties. She had by no means brought herself to like the
yearly raids into Scotland made latterly by sportsmen. But if Scotch
moors and forests were dangerous, what were Irish cliffs! Deer-stalking
was bad in her imagination. She was almost sure that when men went up
to Scotch forests they did not go to church on Sundays. But the idea of
seal-shooting was much more horrible. And then there was that priest who
was the only friend of the widow who had the daughter!

On the morning of the day in which Fred was to reach the Manor, Lady
Scroope did speak to her husband. "Don't you think, my dear, that
something might be done to prevent Fred's returning to that horrid
country?"

"What can we do?"

"I suppose he would wish to oblige you. You are being very good to him."

"It is for the old to give, Mary, and for the young to accept. I do all