So, also, was lisping, little, flaxen-haired Baby Blake, whom I had believed much more likely to capture Horner than the Seraph, as she was always chaffing him and making light of his attentions.
However, girls are so deceptive, that, unless you are let into the secret, you can never find out the happy individuals whom they really favour.

We men folk, on the contrary, soon contrive to exhibit the state of our feelings to unsympathising outsiders, who laugh at us and deride us thereanent! We are "creatures of impulse:"-- they, the most barefaced little dissimulators possible! Fancy, Horner being married, though! "Bai-ey Je-ove!" It would be, to me, well-nigh incredible! Fancy his "popping the question" to Seraphine--who, I'm positive, must have giggled in his face when that interesting operation was gone through; and, then, his subsequent interview with Lady Dasher, who probably detailed for his instruction, how her "poor dear papa" had acted on a similar memorable occasion! I should only like to learn how many times his eye-glass was really appealed to, to help him out of a sentence; and, how frequently he said "Ba-iey Je-ove!" before the whole thing was arranged and his mind set at ease! The marriage was to take place very soon--really, all of our acquaintances were getting married, and having their courses of true love to run smoothly for them, unlike Min and I! After the ceremony was over between these twain, I was told that Lady Dasher--who, now that her two daughters would be "off her hands," no longer had any necessity to keep up a separate establishment--was to move from The Terrace, with her fuchsias and other belongings, and take up her residence for the future with her first son-in-law, Mr Mawley; the curate being now ensconced in that villa, whose furnishing by old Shuffler, lang syne, had caused me so much jealousy and grief! Ah! This _was_ news.
I chuckled immensely over the idea of the relict of the gin distiller settling down like a wet blanket on the connubial couch of the curate! Whenever the ghost of "poor dear papa," in a reminiscential form, was made to walk the earth again, I would be avenged for all the quips and jibes which Mawley had formerly selected me to receive! He would meet with an antagonist now, worthy of his carping, critical metal! I wished him joy of the situation! Mawley and Lady Dasher together in one house, permanently! I say no more.
Is it not strange how you may live on and live on in some quiet country spot, or retired suburb, without anything ever occurring to vary the dull monotony of its even existence; and yet, the moment you go away from this whilom, stagnant neighbourhood--which you had got to believe was everlastingly unchangeable--change then succeeds change with startling rapidity:--as you at a distance hear from those friends whom you had left behind--to simmer on there, as you had simmered on, until the end of the chapter?
Of course, from having become more interested with the deeds and designs of those actors that might be connected with the new scenes amidst which you may now be situated, you will not attach such importance to these events as you would probably have done had you been yet living on in the time-honoured routine of your old abiding-place.

They are to you, at present, only so many little fly-blows on the scroll of time, so to speak.

But, there was a period when you would have regarded them as of the utmost moment; and when, the deaths of people whom you thought would never die, the marriages of those that seemed the most unlikely subjects for matrimony, the flittings of persons of the "oldest inhabitant" class--that you calculated would stick-on there for ever, and their replacement by the advent of new families, whom you would have supposed to be the last in the world to settle down in the locality in question-- would have been matters of nine days' wonderment.
It was so now with myself in, regard to Saint Canon's.
Horner's engagement, Lady Dasher's contemplated removal, the idea of the curate's incubus--all of which would have once filled me with surprise, astonishment, delight--I only looked upon with half-amused interest.
Even the intelligence that Miss Spight had joined the sisterhood organised by Brother Ignatius, hardly affected me as it would formerly have done.
I belonged to another world now, as it were; and, the announcements of births--Mrs Mawley had already presented her lord and master with a little pledge of her affection--and bridals, and burials, at the two last of which I might once have assisted, hardly awoke a passing interest in me! I was too far removed from the orbit in which these phenomena were displayed.
I felt that there were not many now in whom I felt concern at Saint Canon's.
No exceptions, you ask?
Certainly, there were exceptions.
I am astonished at your making the observation.
How could I otherwise "prove the rule," eh?
Min told me that Monsieur Parole d'Honneur was as gay and as full of anecdote as of yore.

She also told me, too, that the kind-hearted Frenchman having chanced to meet her out one day, long before she had been able to hear from me directly, had, in the most delicately- diplomatic way, led the conversation round to America, so that he might tell her that I was not only well, but doing well! This was at the time I had written a rapturous note to him, after my first interview with my friend, "Brown of Philadelphia,"-- before, you may be tolerably certain, that philanthropical polisher had "sloped to Texas" with the capital Parole d'Honneur endowed me with.
He did not mention that latter fact of his generosity to Min, however; but, she knew of it, for I told her of it when we parted, and she then said that she thanked him in her heart for his kindness to me, and would always "love" him for it--so she said! The vicar and Miss Pimpernell--also "exceptions,"-- I heard, were just as usual; the former as much liked as ever by rich and poor alike, in the parish; the latter, trotting about still, with her big basket and creature comforts for those whom she spiritually visited.
Old Shuffler, too, wobbled on, as he had wobbled on as far back as I could recollect, Min told me; and rolled his sound eye, and stared with his glass one, as glassily as then.
I heard also that "Dicky Chips" was as frolicsome and light-hearted a bullfinch as when Min first had him, and had learnt several new tricks.
But, poor old Catch--my dog--whom I had so loved, had died in my absence; not from old age, for he was but young, having only seen his fifth birthday; but, "full of honours," as every one liked him and respected him who knew of his sagacity and faithfulness, and saw his honest brown eyes and handsome high cast head.
Dear old doggy! I had had him from the time he was a month old; and he and I had hardly ever been, parted from that time until I went to America.
He used to accompany me wherever I went, by day; and sleep across my room door at night.
He never had had a harsh word from me but once, that I remember; and, that was respecting a certain little matter connected with a stray sheep, about which we happened to differ on the occasion.
Poor Catch! I can fancy I hear his eager bark now.