ABSTRACT
However trifling the incident was that is related in the foregoing chapter, it so much alarmed the prudent sagacity of Mrs. Lennard, that when, on the following Christmas, Mr. Orlando returned to his occasional visits at the Hall, she took more care than before to prevent any possibility of his ever having an opportunity of meeting Monimia alone; and, as much as she could without being remarked by her Lady, from seeing her at all. But while she took these precautions, she began to think them useless. Orlando was no longer the giddy boy, eager at his childish sports, and watching with impatience for a game of blindman’s buff in the servants’ hall, or a romp with any one who would play with him. Orlando was a young man as uncommonly grave, as he was tall and handsome. There was something more than gravity, there was dejection in his manner; but it served only to make him more interesting. He now slept oftener than before at the Hall, but he was seen there less; and passed whole days in his own room, or rather in the library; where, as this quiet and studious temper recommended him more than ever to Mrs. Rayland, she allowed him to have a fire, to the great comfort and benefit of the books, which had been without that advantage for many years.
