Then Captain Aylmer said something, but his speech was altogether lost.
"Oh;--it belongs to the Captain, do it?
They told me that was the way of the will; but I suppose it's all one." "Yes; it's all one," said Captain Aylmer, gaily.
"It's not exactly all one, as you call it," said Clara, attempting to laugh, but still shouting at the top of her voice.
"Ah;--I don't understand; but I hope you'll both live there together,--and I hope you'll be as good to the poor as she that is gone.

Well, well; I didn't ever think that I should be still here, while she is lying under the stones up in the old church!" Captain Aylmer had determined that he would ask his question on the way back from the farm, and now resolved that he might as well begin with some allusion to Mrs.Partridge's words about the house.

The afternoon was bright and cold, and the lane down to the farmhouse had been dried by the wind, so that the day was pleasant for walking.
"We might as well go on to the bridge," he said, as they left the farm-yard.

"I always think that Perivale church looks better from Creevy bridge than any other point." Perivale church stood high in the centre of the town, on an eminence, and was graced with a spire which was declared by the Perivalians to be preferable to that of Salisbury in proportion, though it was acknowledged to be somewhat inferior to it in height.

The little river Creevy, which ran through a portion of the suburbs of the town, and which, as there seen, was hardly more than a ditch, then sloped away behind Creevy Grange, as the farm of Mrs.Partridge was called, and was crossed by a small wooden bridge, from which there was a view, not only of the church, but of all that side of the hill on which Mrs.Winterfield's large brick house stood conspicuously.