The park was very large, and contained great variety of ground. They entered it in one of its lowest points, and drove for some time through a beautiful wood, stretching over a wide extent.

Spike's mind was too full for conversation, but he saw and admired every remarkable spot and point of view. They gradually ascended for half a mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable eminence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by The Bronze House, situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which the road, with some abruptness, wound. It was a large, handsome, stone building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high woody hills; -- and in front, a stream of some natural importance was swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks were neither formal, nor falsely adorned. Spike was delighted. He had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. They were all of them warm in their admiration; and at that moment he felt that to be mistress of The Bronze might be something!

They descended the hill, crossed the bridge, and drove to the door; and, while examining the nearer aspect of the house, all his apprehensions of meeting its owner returned. He dreaded lest the chambermaid had been mistaken. On applying to see the place, they were admitted into the hall; and Spike, as they waited for the housekeeper, had leisure to wonder at his being where he was and to wonder at just how easy it was to wander into people's homes with but little in the way of invitation.

The housekeeper came; a respectable-looking, elderly man, much less fine, and more civil, than he had any notion of finding him. They followed him into the dining-parlour. It was a large, well-proportioned room, handsomely fitted up. Spike, after slightly surveying it, went to a window to enjoy its prospect. The hill, crowned with wood, from which they had descended, receiving increased abruptness from the distance, was a beautiful object. Every disposition of the ground was good; and he looked on the whole scene -- the river, the trees scattered on its banks, and the winding of the valley, as far as he could trace it -- with delight. As they passed into other rooms, these objects were taking different positions; but from every window there were beauties to be seen. The rooms were lofty and handsome, and their furniture suitable to the fortune of their proprietor; but Spike saw, with admiration of her taste, that it was neither gaudy nor uselessly fine; with less of splendor, and more real elegance, than the furniture of Hellmouth.

"And of the place,'' thought he, "I might have been master! With these rooms I might now have been familiarly acquainted! Instead of viewing them as a stranger, I might have rejoiced in them as my own, and welcomed to them as visitors my aunt and uncle. -- But no,'' -- recollecting himself, -- "that could never be: my aunt and uncle would have been lost to me: I should not have been allowed to invite them.'' There was a lucky recollection -- it saved him from something like regret.

He longed to enquire of the housekeeper whether his mistress were really absent, but had not courage for it. At length, however, the question was asked by his uncle; and he turned away with alarm, while Mr. Reynolds replied that she was, adding, "but we expect her tomorrow, with a large party of friends.'' How rejoiced was Spike that their own journey had not by any circumstance been delayed a day!

His uncle now called his to look at a picture. He approached, and saw the likeness of Ms. Faith suspended, amongst several other miniatures, over the mantlepiece. His uncle asked him, smilingly, how he liked it. The housekeeper came forward, and told them it was the picture of a young gentlewoman, the daughter of his late mistress' steward, who had been brought up by her at her own expence. -- "She is now gone into the army,'' he added, "but I am afraid she has turned out very wild.''

Mr. Rupert Giles looked at his nephew with a smile, but Spike could not return it.

"And that,'' said Mr. Reynolds, pointing to another of the miniatures, "is my mistress -- and very like her. It was drawn at the same time as the other -- about eight years ago.''

"I have heard much of your mistress' fine person,'' said Mr. Rupert Giles, looking at the picture; "it is a handsome face. But, Spikey, you can tell us whether it is like or not.''

Mr. Reynolds's respect for Spike seemed to increase on the intimation of his knowing his mistress.

"Does that young lord know Miss Buffy Summers?''

Spike coloured, and said -- "A little.''

"And do not you think her a very handsome gentlewoman, Ma'am?''

"Yes, very handsome.''

"I am sure I know none so handsome; but in the gallery up stairs you will see a finer, larger picture of her than this. The room was my late mistress' favourite room, and these miniatures are just as they used to be then. She was very fond of them.''

That accounted to Spike for Ms. Faith's being among them.

Mr. Reynolds then directed their attention to one of Mr. Summers, drawn when he was only eight years old.

"And is Mr. Summers as handsome as his sister?'' said Mrs. Jenny Giles.

"Oh! yes -- the handsomest young lord that ever was seen; and so accomplished! -- He dances the Snoopy Dance all day long. In the next room is a new instrument just come down for him -- a present from my master; he comes here to-morrow with her.'' The house keepper guided them into the next room, although Spike could not resist palming the miniature of Miss Buffy before they left.

Mr. Jenny Giles, whose manners were easy and pleasant, encouraged his communicativeness by her questions and remarks; Mr. Reynolds, either from pride or attachment, had evidently great pleasure in talking of his mistress and her brother.

"Is your mistress much at The Bronze in the course of the year?''

"Not so much as I could wish, Madam; but I dare say she may spend half her time here; and Mr. Summers is always down for the summer months.''

"Except,'' thought Spike, "when he goes to Ramsgate.''

"If your mistress would marry, you might see more of her.''

"Yes, Madam; but I do not know when that will be. I do not know who is good enough for her.''

Mr. and Mr. Rupert Giles smiled. Spike could not help saying, "It is very much to her credit, I am sure, that you should think so.''

"I say no more than the truth, and what every body will say that knows her,'' replied the other. Spike thought that was going handsome far; and he listened with increasing astonishment as the housekeeper added, "I have never had a cross word from her in my life, and I have known her ever since she was four years old.''

There was praise, of all others most extraordinary, most opposite to his ideas. That she was not a good tempered woman had been his firmest opinion. His keenest attention was awakened; he longed to hear more, and was grateful to his aunt for saying,

"There are very few people of whom so much can be said. You are lucky in having such a mistress.''

"Yes, Ma'am, I know I am. If I was to go through the world, I could not meet with a better. But I have always observed that they who are good-natured when children are good-natured when they grow up; and she was always the sweetest-tempered, most generous-hearted, girl in the world.''

Spike almost stared at him. -- "Can the be Miss Buffy Summers!'' thought he.

"Her mother was an excellent woman,'' said Mr. Rupert Giles.

"Yes, Sir, that she was indeed; and her daughter will be just like her -- just as affable to the poor.''

Spike listened, wondered, doubted, and was impatient for more. Mr. Reynolds could interest him on no other point. He related the subject of the pictures, the dimensions of the rooms, and the price of the furniture, in vain. Mrs. Jenny Giles, highly amused by the kind of family prejudice to which she attributed his excessive commendation of his mistress, soon led again to the subject; and he dwelt with energy on her many merits, as they proceeded together up the great staircase.

"She is the best landlord, and the best mistress,'' said he, "that ever lived. Not like the wild young women now-a-days, who think of nothing but themselves. There is not one of her tenants or servants but what will give her a good name. Some people call her proud; but I am sure I never saw any thing of it. To my fancy, it is only because she does not rattle away like other young women. Whenever there is a problem or something creepy happens, she seems to show up and stop it. Most of the people here have been saved by her, or helped by you at one time or another. I'm proud to say that the Class of '99 had the lowest mortality rate ofany graduating class in Sunnydale history. And I know at least part of that is because of Miss Buffy.''

"In what an amiable light does the place him!'' thought Spike.

"There fine account of her,'' whispered his uncle, as they walked, "is not quite consistent with her behaviour to our poor friend.''

"Perhaps we might be deceived.''

"That is not very likely; our authority was too good.''

On reaching the spacious lobby above, they were shewn into a very handsome sitting-room, lately fitted up with greater elegance and lightness than the apartments below; and were informed that it was but just done to give pleasure to Mr. Summers, who had taken a liking to the room when last at The Bronze.

"She is certainly a good sister,'' said Spike, as he walked towards one of the windows.

Mr. Reynolds anticipated Mr. Summers' delight when he should enter the room. "And the is always the way with her,'' he added. -- "Whatever can give her brother any pleasure is sure to be done in a moment. There is nothing she would not do for him.''

The picture gallery, and two or three of the principal bedrooms, were all that remained to be shewn. In the former were many good paintings; but Spike knew nothing of the art; and from such as had been already visible below, he had willingly turned to look at some drawings of Mr. Summers', in crayons, whose subjects were usually more interesting, and also more intelligible.

In the gallery there were many family portraits, but they could have little to fix the attention of a stranger. Spike walked on in quest of the only face whose features would be known to him. At last it arrested him -- and he beheld a striking resemblance of Miss Buffy Summers, with such a smile over the face as he remembered to have sometimes seen, when she looked at him. He stood several minutes before the picture in earnest contemplation, and returned to it again before they quitted the gallery. Mr. Reynolds informed them that it had been taken in her mother's life time.

There was certainly at the moment, in Spike's mind, a more gentle sensation towards the original than he had ever felt in the height of their acquaintance. The commendation bestowed on her by Mr. Reynolds was of no trifling nature. What praise is more valuable than the praise of an intelligent servant? As a sister, a landlord, a mistress, he considered how many people's happiness were in her guardianship! -- How much of pleasure or pain it was in her power to bestow! -- How much of good or evil must be done by her! Every idea that had been brought forward by the housekeeper was favourable to her character, and as he stood before the canvas, on which she was represented, and fixed her eyes upon himself, he thought of her regard with a deeper sentiment of gratitude than it had ever raised before; he remembered its warmth, and softened its impropriety of expression.

When all of the house that was open to general inspection had been seen, they returned down stairs, and, taking leave of the housekeeper, were consigned over to the gardener, who met them at the hall door.

As they walked across the lawn towards the river, Spike turned back to look again; his aunt and uncle stopped also, and while the former was conjecturing as to the date of the building, the owner of it herself suddenly came forward from the road, which led behind it to the stables.

They were within twenty yards of each other, and so abrupt was her appearance, that it was impossible to avoid her sight. Their eyes instantly met, and the cheeks of each were overspread with the deepest blush. She absolutely started, and for a moment seemed immoveable from surprise; but shortly recovering herself, advanced towards the party, and spoke to Spike, if not in terms of perfect composure, at least of perfect civility.

He had instinctively turned away; but, stopping on her approach, received her compliments with an embarrassment impossible to be overcome. Had her first appearance, or her resemblance to the picture they had just been examining, been insufficient to assure the other two that they now saw Miss Buffy Summers, the Giles' expression of surprise on beholding her mistress must immediately have told it. They stood a little aloof while she was talking to their nephew, who, astonished and confused, scarcely dared lift his eyes to her face, and knew not what answer he returned to her civil enquiries after his family. Amazed at the alteration in her manner since they last parted, every sentence that she uttered was increasing his embarrassment; and every idea of the impropriety of his being found there recurring to his mind, the few minutes in which they continued together were some of the most uncomfortable of his life. Nor did she seem much more at ease; when she spoke, her accent had none of its usual sedateness; and she repeated her enquiries as to the time of his having left The Ubiquitous Warehouse of the Le Bloddy's, and of his stay in The San Francisco Bay Area, so often, and in so hurried a way, as plainly spoke the distraction of her thoughts.

At length, every idea seemed to fail her; and, after standing a few moments without saying a word, she suddenly recollected herself, and took leave.

The others then joined him, and expressed their admiration of her figure; but Spike heard not a word, and, wholly engrossed by his own feelings, followed them in silence. He was overpowered by shame and vexation. For he was the very spirit of vexation. His coming there was the most unfortunate, the most ill-judged thing in the world! How strange must it appear to her! In what a disgraceful light might it not strike so vain a woman! It might seem as if he had purposely thrown himself in her way again! Oh! why did he come? or, why did she thus come a day before she was expected? Had they been only ten minutes sooner, they should have been beyond the reach of her discrimination, for it was plain that she was that moment arrived, that moment alighted from her horse or her carriage. He blushed again and again over the perverseness of the meeting. And her behaviour, so strikingly altered, -- what could it mean? That she should even speak to him was amazing! -- but to speak with such civility, to enquire after his family! Never in his life had he seen her manners so little dignified, never had she spoken with such gentleness as on the unexpected meeting. What a contrast did it offer to her last address in Hellmouth Park, when she put her letter into his hand! He knew not what to think, nor how to account for it.

They had now entered a beautiful walk by the side of the water, and every step was bringing forward a nobler fall of ground, or a finer reach of the woods to which they were approaching; but it was some time before Spike was sensible of any of it; and, though he answered mechanically to the repeated appeals of his aunt and uncle, and seemed to direct his eyes to such objects as they pointed out, he distinguished no part of the scene. His thoughts were all fixed on that one spot of The Bronze House, whichever it might be, where Miss Buffy Summers then was. He longed to know what at that moment was passing in her mind; in what manner she thought of him, and whether, in defiance of every thing, he was still dear to her. Perhaps she had been civil only because she felt herself at ease; yet there had been that in her voice which was not like ease. Whether she had felt more of pain or of pleasure in seeing him, he could not tell, but she certainly had not seen him with composure.

At length, however, the remarks of his companions on his absence of mind roused him, and he felt the necessity of appearing more like himself.

They entered the woods, and bidding adieu to the river for a while, ascended some of the higher grounds; whence, in spots where the opening of the trees gave the eye power to wander, were many charming views of the valley, the opposite hills, with the long range of woods overspreading many, and occasionally part of the stream. Mrs. Jenny Giles expressed a wish of going round the whole Park, but feared it might be beyond a walk. With a triumphant smile, they were told that it was ten miles round. It settled the matter; and they pursued the accustomed circuit; which brought them again, after some time, in a descent among hanging woods, to the edge of the water, in one of its narrowest parts. They crossed it by a simple bridge, in character with the general air of the scene; it was a spot less adorned than any they had yet visited; and the valley, here contracted into a glen, allowed room only for the stream, and a narrow walk amidst the rough coppice-wood which bordered it. Spike longed to explore its windings; but when they had crossed the bridge, and perceived their distance from the house, Mr. Rupert Giles, who was not a great walker, could go no farther, and thought only of returning to the carriage as quickly as possible. His nephew was, therefore, obliged to submit, and they took their way towards the house on the opposite side of the river, in the nearest direction; but their progress was slow, for Mrs. Jenny Giles, though seldom able to indulge the taste, was very fond of fishing, and was so much engaged in watching the occasional appearance of some trout in the water, and talking to the woman about them, that she advanced but little. Whilst wandering on in the slow manner, they were again surprised, and Spike's astonishment was quite equal to what it had been at first, by the sight of Miss Buffy Summers approaching them, and at no great distance. The walk being here less sheltered than on the other side, allowed them to see her before they met. Spike, however astonished, was at least more prepared for an interview than before, and resolved to appear and to speak with calmness, if she really intended to meet them. For a few moments, indeed, he felt that she would probably strike into some other path. The idea lasted while a turning in the walk concealed her from their view; the turning past, she was immediately before them. With a glance he saw that she had lost none of her recent civility; and, to imitate her politeness, he began, as they met, to admire the beauty of the place; but he had not got beyond the words "delightful,'' and "efulgent,'' when some unlucky recollections obtruded, and he fancied that praise of The Bronze from his might be mischievously construed. His colour changed, and he said no more.

Mr. Rupert Giles was standing a little behind; and on his pausing, she asked him if he would do her the honour of introducing her to his friends. There was a stroke of civility for which he was quite unprepared; and he could hardly suppress a smile at her being now seeking the acquaintance of some of those very people against whom her pride had revolted, in her offer to himself. "What will be her surprise,'' thought he, "when she knows who they are! She takes them now for people of fashion.''

The introduction, however, was immediately made; and as he named their relationship to himself, he stole a sly look at her, to see how she bore it; and was not without the expectation of her decamping as fast as she could from such disgraceful companions. That she was surprised by the connexion was evident; she sustained it however with fortitude, and so far from going away, turned back with them, and entered into conversation with Mrs. Jenny Giles. Spike could not but be pleased, could not but triumph. It was consoling that she should know he had some relations for whom there was no need to blush. He listened most attentively to all that passed between them, and gloried in every expression, every sentence of his uncle, which marked her intelligence, her taste, or her good manners.

The conversation soon turned upon fishing, and he heard Miss Buffy Summers invite her, with the greatest civility, to fish there as often as she chose while she continued in the neighbourhood, offering at the same time to supply her with fishing tackle, and pointing out those parts of the stream where there was usually most sport. Mr. Rupert Giles, who was walking arm in arm with Spike, gave his a look expressive of his wonder. Spike said nothing, but it gratified his exceedingly; the compliment must be all for himself. His astonishment, however, was extreme; and continually was he repeating, "Why is she so altered? From what can it proceed? It cannot be for me, it cannot be for my sake that her manners are thus softened. My reproofs at Purgatory could not work such a change as this. It is impossible that she should still love me.''

After walking some time in the way, the two gentlemen in front, the two ladies behind, on resuming their places after descending to the brink of the river for the better inspection of some curious water-plant, there chanced to be a little alteration. It originated in Mr. Rupert Giles, who, fatigued by the exercise of the morning, found Spike's arm inadequate to his support, and consequently preferred his wife's. Miss Buffy Summers took his place by his nephew, and they walked on together. After a short silence, the lord first spoke. He wished her to know that he had been assured of her absence before he came to the place, and accordingly began by observing that her arrival had been very unexpected -- "for your housekeeper,'' he added, "informed us that you would certainly not be here till to-morrow; and indeed, before we left Bakewell we understood that you were not immediately expected in the country.'' She acknowledged the truth of it all; and said that business with her steward had occasioned her coming forward a few hours before the rest of the party with whom she had been travelling. "They will join me early tomorrow,'' she continued, "and among them are some who will claim an acquaintance with you, -- Willow and her brothers.''

Spike answered only by a slight bow. His thoughts were instantly driven back to the time when Willow's name had been last mentioned between them; and if he might judge from her complexion, her mind was not very differently engaged.

"There is also one other person in the party,'' she continued after a pause, "who more particularly wishes to be known to you, -- Will you allow me, or do I ask too much, to introduce my brother to your acquaintance during your stay at Napa?''

The surprise of such an application was great indeed; it was too great for his to know in what manner he acceded to it. He immediately felt that whatever desire Mr. Summers might have of being acquainted with his must be the work of his sister, and without looking farther, it was satisfactory; it was gratifying to know that her resentment had not made her think really ill of him.

They now walked on in silence; each of them deep in thought. Spike was not comfortable; that was impossible; but he was flattered and pleased. Her wish of introducing her brother to him was a compliment of the highest kind. They soon outstripped the others, and when they had reached the carriage, Mrs. and Mr. Rupert Giles were half a quarter of a mile behind.

She then asked him to walk into the house -- but he declared himself not tired, and they stood together on the lawn. At such a time, much might have been said, and silence was very awkward. He wanted to talk, but there seemed an embargo on every subject. At last he recollected that he had been travelling, and they talked of Matlock and Dove Dale with great perseverance. Yet time and his uncle moved slowly -- and his patience and his ideas were nearly worn out before the te^te-a`-te^te was over. On Mrs. and Mr. Rupert Giles's coming up, they were all pressed to go into the house and take some refreshment; but the was declined, and they parted on each side with the utmost politeness. Miss Buffy Summers handed the gentlemen into the carriage, and when it drove off, Spike saw her walking slowly towards the house.

The observations of his aunt and uncle now began; and each of them pronounced her to be infinitely superior to any thing they had expected. "She is perfectly well behaved, polite, and unassuming,'' said his uncle.

"There is something a little stately in her to be sure,'' replied his uncle, "but it is confined to her air, and is not unbecoming. I can now say with the housekeeper, that though some people may call her proud, I have seen nothing of it.''

"I was never more surprised than by her behaviour to us. It was more than civil; it was really attentive; and there was no necessity for such attention. Her acquaintance with Spike was very trifling.''

"To be sure, Spikey,'' said his uncle, "he is not so handsome as Faith; or rather she has not Faith's countenance, for her features are perfectly good. But how came you to tell us that she was so disagreeable?''

Spike excused himself as well as he could; said that he had liked her better when they met in Sacramento than before, and that he had never seen her so pleasant as the morning.

"But perhaps she may be a little whimsical in her civilities,'' replied his aunt. "Your great women often are; and therefore I shall not take her at her word about fishing, as she might change her mind another day, and warn me off her grounds.''

Spike felt that they had entirely mistaken her character, but said nothing.

"From what we have seen of her,'' continued Mr. Rupert Giles, "I really should not have thought that she could have behaved in so cruel a way by any body, as she has done by poor Faith. She has not an ill-natured look. On the contrary, there is something pleasing about her mouth when she speaks. And there is something of dignity in her countenance, that would not give one an unfavourable idea of her heart. But to be sure, the good lord who shewed us the house did give her a most flaming character! I could hardly help laughing aloud sometimes. But she is a liberal mistress, I suppose, and that in the eye of a servant comprehends every virtue.''

Spike here felt himself called on to say something in vindication of her behaviour to Faith; and therefore gave them to understand, in as guarded a manner as he could, that by what he had heard from her relations in Sacramento, her actions were capable of a very different construction; and that her character was by no means so faulty, nor Faith's so amiable, as they had been considered in Southern California. In confirmation of this, he related the particulars of all the pecuniary transactions in which they had been connected, without actually naming his authority, but stating it to be such as might be relied on.

Mr. Rupert Giles was surprised and concerned; but as they were now approaching the scene of his former pleasures, every idea gave way to the charm of recollection; and he was too much engaged in pointing out to his wife all the interesting spots in its environs to think of any thing else. Fatigued as he had been by the morning's walk, they had no sooner dined than he set off again in quest of his former acquaintance, and the evening was spent in the satisfactions of an intercourse renewed after many years discontinuance.

He retreated from the window, fearful of being seen; and as he walked up and down the room, endeavouring to compose himself, saw such looks of enquiring surprise in his aunt and uncle as made every thing worse.

Miss Summers and his sister appeared, and the formidable introduction took place. With astonishment did Spike see that his new acquaintance was at least as much embarrassed as himself. Since his being at Napa, he had heard that Mr. Summers was exceedingly proud; but the observation of a very few minutes convinced his that he was only exceedingly shy. He found it difficult to obtain even a word from his beyond a monosyllable.

Mr. Summers was tall, and on a larger scale than Spike; and, though little more than sixteen, his figure was formed, and his appearance manly and graceful. He was less handsome than his sister, but there was sense and good humour in his face, and his manners were perfectly unassuming and gentle. Spike, who had expected to find in him as acute and unembarrassed an observer as ever Miss Buffy Summers had been, was much relieved by discerning such different feelings.

They had not been long together before Summers told his that Rosenburg was also coming to wait on her; and he had barely time to express his satisfaction, and prepare for such a visitor, when Rosenburg's quick step was heard on the stairs, and in a moment she entered the room. All Spike's anger against her had been long done away; but, had he still felt any, it could hardly have stood its ground against the unaffected cordiality with which she expressed herself on seeing his again. She enquired in a friendly, though general way, after his family, and looked and spoke with the same good-humoured ease that she had ever done.

To Mrs. and Mr. Rupert Giles she was scarcely a less interesting personage than to himself. They had long wished to see her. The whole party before them, indeed, excited a lively attention. The suspicions which had just arisen, of Miss Buffy Summers and their nephew, directed their observation towards each with an earnest, though guarded, enquiry; and they soon drew from those enquiries the full conviction that one of them at least knew what it was to love. Of the gentleman's sensations they remained a little in doubt; but that the lady was overflowing with admiration was evident enough.

Spike, on his side, had much to do. He wanted to ascertain the feelings of each of his visitors, he wanted to compose his own, and to make himself agreeable to all; and in the latter object, where he feared most to fail, he was most sure of success, for those to whom he endeavoured to give pleasure were prepossessed in his favour. Rosenburg was ready, Xander was eager, and Summers determined to be pleased.

In seeing Rosenburg, his thoughts naturally flew to his brother; and oh! how ardently did he long to know whether any of her were directed in a like manner. Sometimes he could fancy that she talked less than on former occasions, and once or twice pleased himself with the notion that as she looked at him, she was trying to trace a resemblance. But though the might be imaginary, he could not be deceived as to her behaviour to Mr. Summers, who had been set up as a rival of Oz. No look appeared on either side that spoke particular regard. Nothing occurred between them that could justify the hopes of her brother. On the point he was soon satisfied; and two or three little circumstances occurred ere they parted which, in his anxious interpretation, denoted a recollection of Oz not untinctured by tenderness, and a wish of saying more that might lead to the mention of him, had she dared. She observed to him, at a moment when the others were talking together, and in a tone which had something of real regret, that it "was a very long time since she had had the pleasure of seeing him --'' and, before he could reply, she added, "It is above eight months. We have not met since the 26th of November, when we were all sparring together at the burnt husk of Sunnydale High.''

Spike was pleased to find her memory so exact; and she afterwards took occasion to ask him, when unattended to by any of the rest, whether all his brothers were at The Ubiquitous Warehouse of the Le Bloddy's. There was not much in the question, nor in the preceding remark, but there was a look and manner which gave them meaning.

It was not often that he could turn his eyes on Miss Buffy Summers himself; but, whenever he did catch a glimpse, he saw an expression of general complaisance, and in all that she said he heard an accent so far removed from hauteur or disdain of her companions, as convinced him that the improvement of manners which he had yesterday witnessed, however temporary its existence might prove, had at least outlived one day. When he saw her thus seeking the acquaintance and courting the good opinion of people, with whom any intercourse a few months ago would have been a disgrace; when he saw her thus civil, not only to himself, but to the very relations whom she had openly disdained, and recollected their last lively scene in Purgatory Parsonage, the difference, the change was so great, and struck so forcibly on his mind, that he could hardly restrain his astonishment from being visible. Never, even in the company of her dear friends at the burnt husk of Sunnydale High, or her dignified relations at Hellmouth, had he seen her so desirous to please, so free from self-consequence or unbending reserve, as now, when no importance could result from the success of her endeavours, and when even the acquaintance of those to whom her attentions were addressed would draw down the ridicule and censure of the gentlemen both of the burnt husk of Sunnydale High and Hellmouth.

Their visitors staid with them above half an hour, and when they arose to depart, Miss Buffy Summers called on her brother to join her in expressing their wish of seeing Mrs. and Mr. Rupert Giles and Mr. le Bloddy to dinner at The Bronze before they left the country. Mr. Summers, though with a diffidence which marked him little in the habit of giving invitations, readily obeyed. Mr. Rupert Giles looked at his nephew, desirous of knowing how He, whom the invitation most concerned, felt disposed as to its acceptance, but Spike had turned away his head. Presuming, however, that the studied attendance spoke rather a momentary embarrassment, than any dislike of the proposal, and seeing in his wife, who was fond of society, a perfect willingness to accept it, he ventured to engage for his attendance, and the day after the next was fixed on.

Rosenburg expressed great pleasure in the certainty of seeing Spike again, having still a great deal to say to him, and many enquiries to make after all their Southern California friends. Spike, construing all the into a wish of hearing his speak of his brother, was pleased; and on the account, as well as some others, found himself, when their visitors left them, capable of considering the last half hour with some satisfaction, though while it was passing the enjoyment of it had been little. Eager to be alone, and fearful of enquiries or hints from his aunt and uncle, he staid with them only long enough to hear their favourable opinion of Rosenburg, and then hurried away to dress.

But he had no reason to fear Mrs. and Mr. Rupert Giles's curiosity; it was not their wish to force his communication. It was evident that he was much better acquainted with Miss Buffy Summers than they had before any idea of; it was evident that she was very much in love with him. They saw much to interest, but nothing to justify enquiry.

Of Miss Buffy Summers it was now a matter of anxiety to think well; and, as far as their acquaintance reached, there was no fault to find. They could not be untouched by her politeness, and, had they drawn her character from their own feelings and her servant's report, without any reference to any other account, the circle in Southern California to which she was known would not have recognised it for Miss Buffy Summers. There was now an interest, however, in believing the housekeeper; and they soon became sensible that the authority of a servant who had known her since she was four years old, and whose own manners indicated respectability, was not to be hastily rejected. Neither had any thing occurred in the intelligence of their Napa friends that could materially lessen its weight. They had nothing to accuse her of but pride; pride she probably had, and if not, it would certainly be imputed by the inhabitants of a small market-town where the family did not visit. It was acknowledged, however, that she was a liberal woman, and did much good among the poor.

With respect to Faith, the travellers soon found that she was not held there in much estimation; for though the chief of her concerns with the daughter of her patron were imperfectly understood, it was yet a well known fact that on her quitting the San Francisco Bay Area she had left many debts behind her, which Miss Buffy Summers afterwards discharged.

As for Spike, his thoughts were at The Bronze the evening more than the last; and the evening, though as it passed it seemed long, was not long enough to determine his feelings towards one in that mansion; and he lay awake two whole hours endeavouring to make them out. He certainly did not hate her. No; hatred had vanished long ago, and he had almost as long been ashamed of ever feeling a dislike against her that could be so called. The respect created by the conviction of her valuable qualities, though at first unwillingly admitted, had for some time ceased to be repugnant to his feelings; and it was now heightened into somewhat of a friendlier nature by the testimony so highly in her favour, and bringing forward her disposition in so amiable a light, which yesterday had produced. But above all, above respect and esteem, there was a motive within him of good will which could not be overlooked. It was gratitude. -- Gratitude, not merely for having once loved him, but for loving his still well enough to forgive all the petulance and acrimony of his manner in rejecting her, and all the unjust accusations accompanying his rejection. She who, he had been persuaded, would avoid him as her greatest enemy, seemed, on the accidental meeting, most eager to preserve the acquaintance, and without any indelicate display of regard, or any peculiarity of manner, where their two selves only were concerned, was soliciting the good opinion of his friends, and bent on making his known to her brother. Such a change in a woman of so much pride excited not only astonishment but gratitude -- for to love, ardent love, it must be attributed; and as such, its impression on his was of a sort to be encouraged, as by no means unpleasing, though it could not be exactly defined. He respected, he esteemed, he was grateful to her; he felt a real interest in her welfare; and he only wanted to know how far he wished that welfare to depend upon himself, and how far it would be for the happiness of both that he should employ the power, which his fancy told his he still possessed, of bringing on the renewal of her addresses.

It had been settled in the evening, between the uncle and nephew, that such a striking civility as Mr. Summers', in coming to them on the very day of his arrival at The Bronze -- for he had reached it only to a late breakfast -- ought to be imitated, though it could not be equalled, by some exertion of politeness on their side; and, consequently, that it would be highly expedient to wait on him at The Bronze the following morning. They were, therefore, to go. -- Spike was pleased, though, when he asked himself the reason, he had very little to say in reply.

Mrs. Jenny Giles left them soon after breakfast. The fishing scheme had been renewed the day before, and a positive engagement made of her meeting some of the ladies at The Bronze by noon.
 

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