ABSTRACT
IT was the middle of October before Mrs. Woodfield returned with her family to her own house. Her health was amended, and her spirits much cheeredb by letters she had received from Colonel Cecil, which informed her that, though he was not worse, he had found it necessary to accept the permission that had been given him to return home, in order to complete his cure; and that as soon as he could undertake the journey he should be in London, remain there only as long as was necessary to consult one of his friends, a surgeon of great eminence, and then hasten to embrace his beloved sister and his Caroline, whom he had never seen since the death of her mother. Preparations were now joyfully making for his reception; but a fine October admitted of frequent morning walks among the now fading woods and russet fields. Their paths through the copses were often interrupted by great branches, or whole trees of hazel, that had been torn down for the nuts. It was on remarking this, and some other appearances, that the following dialogue passed:
