Bag and Baggage/Camilla

CAMILLATHE village of Gorseley lay among the South Downs five or six miles distant from the Hampshire capital. Camilla, coming over the hills towards it, met, one after the other, two horsemen, each of whom stopped to put to her the same question:
"How is Mrs. Brodhurst?"
"O! ever so much better, thank you. She seems quite herself again."
The first speaker, the young local doctor, Mr. Marks, nodded cheerily, with a "That's capital," and passed on his busy way; the second, Mr. Robert Spurling, Vicar of St. Woolnoth's, dismounted and walked beside the young lady.
"She has not asked for me, I suppose?" he said.
He was an ascetic young man, tall, dark, eagle-featured, much under the neighbouring Keble influence, and intensely in earnest. He had the passions of a dogmatist, a perilous equipment, and not a vestige of a sense of humour.
Camilla shook her head, shook her chestnut ringlets momentarily over her face; for this was the era of neat partings, and dropping curls, and little cosy bonnets of a Quaker cast. She had rolls of fur round her neck and round the hems of her plain brown dress and long-skirted jacket; and at her throat snuggled a bow of ribbon as blue as her eyes.
Mr

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