his health. Nor did the
squire for a moment hesitate at accepting the proposal to join his
distinguished relative at Bath. Lucy also--who had for her uncle,
possibly from his profuse yet not indelicate flattery, a very great
regard and interest, though she had seen but little of him--urged the
squire to lose no time in arranging matters for their departure, so as
to precede the barrister, and prepare everything for his arrival. The
father and daughter being thus agreed, there was little occasion for
delay; an answer to the invalid's letter was sent by return of post, and
on the fourth day from their receipt of the said epistle, the good old
squire, his daughter, a country girl by way of abigail, the gray-headed
butler, and two or three live pets, of the size and habits most
convenient for travelling, were on their way to a city which at that
time was gayer at least, if somewhat less splendid, than the metropolis.

On the second day of their arrival at Bath, Brandon (as in future, to
avoid confusion, we shall call the younger brother, giving to the elder
his patriarchal title of squire) joined them.

He was a man seemingly rather fond of parade, though at heart he
disrelished and despised it. He came to their lodging, which had not
been selected in the very best part of the town, in a carriage and six,
but attended only by one favourite servant.

They found him in better looks and better spirits than they had
anticipated. Few persons, when he liked it, could be more agreeable than
William Brandon; but at times there mixed with his conversation a bitter
sarcasm, probably a habit acquired in his profession, or an occasional
tinge of morose and haughty sadness, possibly the consequence of his
ill-health. Yet his disorder, which was somewhat approaching to that
painful affliction the tic douloureux, though of fits more rare in
occurrence than those of that complaint ordinarily are, never seemed
even for an instant to operate upon his mood, whatever that might be.
That disease worked unseen; not a muscle of his face appeared to quiver;
the smile never vanished from his mouth, the blandness of his voice
never grew faint as with pain, and, in the midst of intense torture, his
resolute and stern mind conquered every external indication; nor could
the most observant stranger have noted the moment when the fit attacked
or released him. There was something inscrutable about the man. You felt
that you took his character upon trust