The Earl, who was at-heart an affectionate father, upon seeing the genuine distress the revelation had caused his son, earnestly began to wish he had never opened the subject. His son, whilst oblivious to the long passage of time that had occasioned the crisis, was nonetheless expeditious in its remedy. After consulting with his parents as to their inclination, and ascertaining which of the young ladies under study was most certain to promote his happiness, he set about his courtship of the chosen specimen with the enthusiasm customarily reserved for his other, less animate pursuits. The Lady Celia was a young lady of title, suitably pretty, suitably named, and suitably unmarried. An agreement was quickly reached between the fathers, and the church register, wedding-breakfast, and wedding-cloathes consigned to their various states of completion; the new Viscountess settled into the wing of the Earl’s house from which her husband had ridden to the church. The arrangement was an uncommon example of parental solicitude and filial duty wonderfully united for the happiness of all parties. The Viscount was allowed to return to his rocks, and his quiet little wife to her books and drawings, albeit with the singular change that Lord Hallendale’s study now had two silent occupants for much of the day.

Despite any general supposition by anyone who knew the habits of the couple to the contrary, the Viscount and his wife were, within the course of just over a year, in expectation of the much looked-for heir. The heir was duly delivered, and within the space of two further years, the addition of another little boy blessed the family. The joy, which usually attends such events, was most tragically abbreviated when Lady Celia, shortly after the birth, contracted a violent fever and died. The care of his children was necessarily consigned to his lady mother, and to all outward appearances, with the exception of the children, Lady Celia might never have existed. If the Viscount attended his cabinet even more diligently in the months after the death of his wife, the simple explanation was that he was grown accustomed to her quiet presence in the hours of his day, and missed her a great deal more than was generally imagined. The years passed with no change other than the Viscount became the Earl, a distinction not likely to be perceived by his closest associates—his cabinets.