neighbours, there was not an old-young lady of forty, who worked in
broad-stitch and had never been to London above a week at a time, who did
not deem herself exactly the sort of person sure to fascinate his
lordship.

It was late in the afternoon when the travelling-chariot of this
distinguished person, preceded by two outriders, in the earl's undress
livery of dark green, stopped at the hall door of Warlock House. The
squire was at home, actually and metaphorically; for he never dreamed of
denying himself to any one, gentle or simple. The door of the carriage
being opened, there descended a small slight man, richly dressed (for
lace and silk vestments were not then quite discarded, though gradually
growing less the mode), and of an air prepossessing and distinguished
rather than dignified. His years--for his countenance, though handsome,
was deeply marked, and evinced the tokens of dissipation--seemed more
numerous than they really were; and though not actually past middle age,
Lord Mauleverer might fairly have received the unpleasing epithet of
elderly. However, his step was firm, his gait upright, and his figure
was considerably more youthful than his physiognomy. The first
compliments of the day having passed, and Lord Mauleverer having
expressed his concern that his long and frequent absence from the county
had hitherto prevented his making the acquaintance of Mr. Brandon, the
brother of one of his oldest and most esteemed friends, conversation
became on both sides rather an effort. Mr. Brandon first introduced the
subject of the weather, and the turnips; inquired whether his lordship
was not very fond (for his part he used to be, but lately the rheumatism
had disabled him; he hoped his lordship was not subject to that
complaint) of shooting!

Catching only the last words,--for, besides the awful complexity of the