In the group behind them, Mr. Rushworth forgot himself momentarily and started to growl and sniff the air in the enthusiastic manner of a hound who’s scented prey—so loudly that he could be heard miles away. They all felt the refreshment of it—not as hounds, of course, but in a more civilized fashion—and for some time could only walk and admire.

At length, after a short pause, Miss Crawford who had recovered considerably in the shadows, began with, “So you are to be a clergyman, Mr. Bertram. This is rather a surprise to me.”

“Why should it surprise you? You must suppose me designed for some profession, and might perceive that I am neither a lawyer, nor a soldier, nor a sailor.”

“Very true; but, in short, it had not occurred to me. And you know there is generally an uncle or a grandfather to leave a fortune to the second son.”

In that instant, elsewhere, Mr. Rushworth made an enthusiastic yelp at the sight of a squirrel racing on a tree branch, then pretended to be clearing his throat, while Maria gave him a long withering look, and Mr. Crawford gallantly made a point of not noticing.

“A very praiseworthy practice,” said Edmund, ignoring Mr. Rushworth’s spectacle being played out in back of them, “but not quite universal. I am one of the exceptions, and being one, must do something for myself.”

“But why are you to be a clergyman? I thought that was always the lot of the youngest, where there were many to chuse before him.”

“Do you think the church itself never chosen, then?”

Elsewhere, came a very wolfish, very unrestrained howl.

“Never is a black word. But yes, in the never of conversation, which means not very often, I do think it. For what is to be done in the church? Men love to distinguish themselves, and in either of the other lines distinction may be gained, but not in the church. A clergyman is nothing.”

There was a loud crashing of shrubbery. This time both Miss Bertrams turned from their variably distant vantage points to see Mr. Rushworth make a very sudden move, despite his portly figure, in the direction of a pair of other squirrels, and break off a large portion of a low-hanging branch.

Edmund, grave in demeanor, completely ignored it.