"The best match decidedly about this neighbourhood is Mr. Haveloc, of Tynebrook," said Lady Raymond, laughing. "I strongly recommend him to Miss Capel's notice; and though he is at present in London, he is soon expected to return. Lord Raymond likes him extremely."
"Didn't I meet him at Chirke Weston, Margaret?" asked Harriet.
"I think you did," replied Margaret.
"Ay! you were too young then, or else it was really much neglect on your part—staying in the very house," said Harriet. "You will have it all to begin again."
This was very pleasant, certainly, to have two kind friends planning to throw Margaret and Mr. Haveloc together as much as possible.
Margaret faintly entreated that Harriet would make no matches for her; that she preferred remaining single, and, that strange as the fancy was, she begged to be indulged in it.
"But about Mr. Haveloc," said Lady Raymond, drawing her chair close into the window. "As Mrs. Fitzpatrick is up stairs, I will tell you such a romantic story about him. You know Mrs. Fitzpatrick had a very lovely daughter. Well; Mr. Haveloc was devotedly attached to her; it was all settled—they were going to be married, when she fell into a rapid decline, and died. Raymond saw him there, and said—" Here Lady Raymond expressed Lord Raymond's sayings by lifting up her hands and eyes, and dropping them both together; "and I think that it was which made Mr. Haveloc rather religious."
"Is he religious?" asked Harriet, pulling the leaves carelessly from a geranium.
"Oh, I think so!" returned Lady Raymond, "he has been building schools on his estate; and is wild now about repairing a church—to be sure it is the family church, where all the old monuments are—the Crusaders, and even the Danish sea-king, they say. Harriet, remind me that we take Miss Capel to see the church at Tynebrook to-morrow, if it is fine. He has been laying down a tessellated pavement, and putting in stained-glass windows, and such an altar cloth! I am told there was never any-thing so beautiful; but I have not been yet, because it is a bad carriage road, except in summer."
"Well, what an odd fancy," said Harriet, winding her riding whip round her fingers. "I always thought he was a moonshiny sort of a person. I suppose he was engrossed by Miss Fitzpatrick when I saw him. You know people gave him to Bessy about that time."