The day of Herbert Hardman's arrival from France proved auspicious.
It was a lovely day in the middle of June. When he landed at the
village of Kingswear, opposite to Dartmouth, the fishermen saluted
him with a discharge of all the firearms they could collect. His
parents received him at the landing-place, his mother embracing him
with every outward and public mark of affection. A long cavalcade
followed the carriage in which he was conducted to Coote-down Hall,
consisting of the tenantry, headed by the most distinguished of his
father's guests.

At the entrance of the domain, new tokens of welcome presented
themselves. The gates were plentifully adorned with flowers, and at
a turn of the thickly-wooded avenue, an arch of garlands was thrown
across the path. The lawn was covered with lads and lasses from the
surrounding farms, who, when Herbert appeared, set up a joyous cheer,
whilst the drawing-room windows of the house were filled with ladies
waving handkerchiefs.

The hall of the mansion was lined with servants, who obsequiously
bowed as Herbert passed them. When he made his appearance in the
drawing-room, there was almost a struggle amongst the ladies for the
earliest honours of salutation. One maiden, however, stood apart,
drinking in deeply the attestations of favour with which the heir of
the estate was received, but too timid to share in, or to add to
them. This was Miss Dodbury. The gentlemen, most of whom had
accompanied Herbert from the landing-place, now joined the ladies;
and Mr and Mrs Hardman entered the room amidst the hearty
congratulations of their guests.

The fashionable dinner hour at that period was much earlier than at