at so
early an hour, yet he had been daily expected: the logs soon burned
bright in the ample hearth of the breakfast-room; the urn hissed, the
cutlets smoked; and while the rest of the party gathered round the fire,
and unmuffled themselves of cloaks and shawl-handkerchiefs, Vargrave
seized upon the housekeeper, traversed with delighted steps the
magnificent suite of rooms, gazed on the pictures, admired the state
bed-chambers, peeped into the offices, and recognized in all a mansion
worthy of a Peer of England,--but which a more prudent man would have
thought, with a sigh, required careful management of the rent-roll
raised from the property adequately to equip and maintain. Such an idea
did not cross the mind of Vargrave; he only thought how much he should
be honoured and envied, when, as Secretary of State, he should yearly
fill those feudal chambers with the pride and rank of England! It was
characteristic of the extraordinary sanguineness and self-confidence
of Vargrave, that he entirely overlooked one slight obstacle to this
prospect, in the determined refusal of Evelyn to accept that passionate
homage which he offered to--her fortune!

When breakfast was over the steward was called in, and the party,
mounted upon ponies, set out to reconnoitre. After spending the short
day most agreeably in looking over the gardens, pleasure-grounds, park,
and home-farm, and settling to visit the more distant parts of the
property the next day, the party were returning home to dine, when
Vargrave's eye caught the glittering _whim_ of Sir Gregory Gubbins.

He pointed it out to Mr. Onslow, and laughed much at hearing of the
annoyance it occasioned to Colonel Maltravers. "Thus," said Lumley, "do
we all crumple the rose-leaf under us, and quarrel with couches the most
luxuriant! As for me, I will wager, that were this property mine, or my
ward's, in three weeks we should have won the heart of Sir Gregory, made
him pull down his _whim_, and coaxed him out of his interest in the city
of -----. A good seat for you, Howard, some day or other."

"Sir Gregory has prodigiously bad taste," said Mr. Hobbs. "For my
part, I think that there ought to be a certain modest simplicity in the
display of wealth got in business,--that was my poor father's maxim."

"Ah!" said Vargrave, "Hobbs' Lodge is a specimen. Who was your
predecessor in that charming retreat?"

"Why, the place--then called Dale Cottage--belonged to a Mr. Berners, a
rich bach