ordinary topics. He questioned her sometimes about his place at Nunnely; she was but too happy to answer his interrogatories at length: she never wearied of describing the antique Priory, the wild sylvan park, the hoary church and hamlet; nor did she fail to counsel him to come down and gather his tenantry about him in his ancestral halls.
Somewhat to her surprise, Sir Philip followed her advice to the letter; and actually, towards the close of September, arrived at the Priory.
He soon made a call at Fieldhead, and his first visit was not his last: he said—when he had achieved the round of the neighbourhood—that under no roof had he found such pleasant shelter as beneath the massive oak-beams of the gray manor-house of Briarfield: a cramped, modest dwelling enough, compared with his own—but he liked it.
Presently, it did not suffice to sit with Shirley in her panelled parlour, where others came and went, and where he could rarely find a quiet moment to show her the latest production of his fertile muse; he must have her out amongst the pleasant pastures, and lead her by the still waters. Tête-à-tête ramblings she shunned; so he made parties for her to his own grounds, his glorious forest; to remoter scenes—woods severed by the Wharfe, vales watered by the Aire.
Such assiduity covered Miss Keeldar with distinction. Her uncle's prophetic soul anticipated a splendid future: he already scented the time afar off
