And folks were right, too, as well as kind: for a fine young fellow was Jonathan Floyd, as any duchess's footman; tall, well built, and twenty-five; Antinous in a livery.

Well to do, withal, though his wages don't come straight to him; for, independently of his place--and the baronet likes him for his good looks and proper manners--he is Farmer Floyd's only son, on the hill yonder, as thriving a small tenant as any round abouts; and he is proud of his master, of his blue and silver uniform, of old Hurstley, and of all things in general, except himself.
"But what on earth's the matter, Grace ?" he was obliged to repeat, for the dear girl's agitation was extreme.
"Jonathan, can I see the baronet ?" "What, at nine in the morning, Grace Acton! Call again at two, and you may find him getting up.

He hasn't been three hours a-bed yet, and there's nobody about but Sarah Stack and me.

I wish those Lunnun sparks would but leave the place: they do his honour no good, I'm thinking." "Not till two!" was the slow and mournful ejaculation.

What a damper to her buoyant hopes: and Providence had seen fit to give her ill-success.
Is it so?
Prosperity may come in other shapes.
"Why, Grace," suddenly said Floyd, in a very nervous way, "what makes you call upon my master in this tidy trim ?" "To save my father," answered Innocence.
"How?
why?
Oh don't, Grace, don't! I'll save him--I will indeed--what is it?
Oh, don't, don't!" For the poor affectionate fellow conjured on the spot the black vision of a father saved by a daughter's degradation.
"Don't, Jonathan ?--it's my duty, and God will bless me in it.