But, alas! he was not quite wise enough for this, with all that he had read and learned and seen.

Therefore, when it was reported from Spain that my father had been killed by bandits--the truth being that he was then in Greece--the Countess at last consented to the marriage of her daughter with Herbert Castlewood, and even seemed to press it forward for some reasons of her own.

And the happy couple set forth upon their travels, and Mrs.Price was sent abroad to wait upon the lady.
For a few months they seemed to get on very well, Flittamore showing much affection for her husband, whose age was a trifle more than her own doubled, while he was entirely wrapped up in her, and labored that the graces of her mind might be worthy to compare with those more visible.
But her spiritual face and most sweet poetic eyes were vivid with bodily brilliance alone.

She had neither mind enough to learn, nor heart enough to pretend to learn.
It is out of my power to describe such things, even if it were my duty to do so, which, happily, it has never been; moreover, Mrs.Price, in what she told me, exercised a just and strict reserve.

Enough that Mr.
Castlewood's wedded life was done with in six months and three days.
Lady Castlewood, as she would be called, though my father still was living and his cousin disclaimed the title--away she ran from some dull German place, after a very stiff lesson in poetry, and with her ran off a young Englishman, the present Sir Montague Hockin.