Lord Rivers smiled, but he did not reply.
"What was it, Rivers?" exclaimed an old squire, who with his wife and daughter were guests at the table. "I have often wondered myself at the singular title."
"Most likely from Engle, or angle, a corner," said the earl, demurely, "the corner of a field being no doubt the earliest possession of my ancestors."
"Papa, that is worse than your other definition," cried his daughter; and then with her usual vivacity she related the conversation in which Lord Rivers had suggested that his family were descended from the gipsies.
"At all events, Mary and Willie are not gipsies," said the earl, quietly.
He was thinking of the other subject referred to by his daughter—the marriage of Fanny Halford; and while those round the table were discussing the gipsy question with Lady Dora, his memory recalled the sad events that had occurred since that time in his own family, as well as in that of his old tutor. Many years had passed after the visit of congratulation which he had paid to the residents at Englefield Grange on the occasion of Fanny's marriage, before the earl visited Dr. Halford a second time. The health of Lady Rivers had rendered it necessary for her to reside in the south of France for years before her death, and on the return of Lord Rivers to England after that sad event he could not for a long period visit the friends of his youth who so well remembered the fair, gentle lady who became the earl's bride. He answered Dr. Halford's sympathising letter, but it was not till he read in the Times the notice of Fanny Franklyn's death that he visited his old tutor again, and witnessed with sincere regret the effects of sorrow in the change and wreck of the friend of his boyhood, Clara Marston.
Henry Halford was on this occasion absent at Oxford, and the earl renewed his promise that the first living in his gift that fell vacant should be his. Of Mrs. Halford's death he had been informed in a letter from the bereaved husband; since then, in the very midst of the excitement occasioned by the tragic end of the second Mrs. Franklyn, an account of which appeared in the papers, he had also read Henry Halford's name in the list of ordinations by the Bishop of London. Rapidly all these memories passed through his mind, and he started almost perceptibly when Squire Hartley exclaimed—
"You've heard of Parson Wentworth's death, I suppose, Rivers?"
Opposite to the squire sat another guest, a bluff old colonel, also a neighbour of the earl's, who exclaimed—
"Heard of a living in his gift having become vacant, squire! What an unnecessary question! Why, man, the parson died on Sunday, and this is Wednesday! I for one shouldn't like to have to read all the letters on the subject, which Rivers has no doubt by this time received."