Amoris Integratio

During the early days of the Minister's illness, when, as we have seen,
all the political world of England were turning their coaches and six
towards the Castle Inn, it came to be the custom for Julia to go every
morning to the little bridge over the Kennet, thence to watch the
panorama of departures and arrivals; and for Sir George to join her
there without excuse or explanation, and as if, indeed, nothing in the
world were more natural.

As the Earl's illness continued to detain all
who desired to see him--from the Duke of Grafton's parliamentary
secretary to the humblest aspirant to a tide-waitership--Soane was not
the only one who had time on his hands and sought to while it away in
the company of the fair. The shades of Preshute churchyard, which lies
in the bosom of the trees, not three bowshots from the Castle Inn and
hard by the Kennet, formed the chosen haunt of one couple. A second pair
favoured a seat situate on the west side of the Castle Mound, and well
protected by shrubs from the gaze of the vulgar. And there were others.

These Corydons, however, were at ease; they basked free from care in the
smiles of their Celias. But Soane, in his philandering, had to do with
black care that would be ever at his elbow; black care, that always when
he was not with Julia, and sometimes while he talked to her, would jog
his thoughts, and draw a veil before the future. The prospect of losing
Estcombe, of seeing the family Lares broken and cast out, and the
family stem, tender and young, yet not ungracious, snapped off short,
wrung a heart that belied his cold exterior.