"If what," enquired the stranger; "are you, too, going to throw all the blame on the poor landlord."
"Willingly, most willingly would I throw not the blame, but all the praise of their well-being upon him, if he would but return and give us the blessing of feeling him to be amongst us."
"Yet you cannot help being angry with him."
"Perhaps not, but mine is more the pettishness of jealous affection, and I cannot bear to see him keeping away from those whose hearts he might make all his own—and wasting health, and time, and happiness, in the wayward course he has chosen.
"But, sir," added Mr. Ware, checking himself. "You will come to my house, to-day."
"I thank you, time presses with me; and here you see my horse is waiting. A fine fellow, is he not; how gallantly he bore that long ride the other night, and he looks none the worse for it now. Here, my good fellow," he said, dismissing the man who led him, and taking the rein upon his arm. "Will you not walk a little further with me," he continued to Mr. Ware.
"Certainly, though I confess myself thoroughly disappointed that you will not stay with me."
"Another time, dear sir, I will not fail to avail myself of the pleasure of your acquaintance; but I really have engagements I do not like to break. Do you think there is any hope of the poor bailiff?"
"I trust so."
"I know you will do every thing you can for him, mentally and bodily. If he would become a changed man, the comfort of your people might be better secured, than by the appointment of a fresh bailiff."