ined that such pardon should
never be given, unless it were asked for with almost bended knees;
but, nevertheless, this grandson should be his heir. That was
his present intention. The right of primogeniture could not, in
accordance with his theory, be abrogated by the fact that it was, in
George Vavasor's case, protected by no law. The Squire could leave
Vavasor Hall to whom he pleased, but he could not have hoped to rest
quietly in his grave should it be found that he had left it to any
one but the eldest son of his own eldest son. Though violent, and
even stern, he was more prone to love than to anger; and though none
of those around him dared to speak to him of his grandson, yet he
longed in his heart for some opportunity of being reconciled to him.

The whole party went to church on this Christmas morning. The small
parish church of Vavasor, an unpretending wooden structure, with a
single bell which might be heard tinkling for a mile or two over the
fells, stood all alone about half a mile from the Squire's gate.
Vavasor was a parish situated on the intermediate ground between
the mountains of the lake country and the plains. Its land was
unproductive, ill-drained, and poor, and yet it possessed little or
none of the beauty which tourists go to see. It was all amidst the
fells, and very dreary. There were long skirtings of dark pines
around a portion of the Squire's property, and at the back of the
house there was a thick wood of firs running up to the top of what
was there called the Beacon Hill. Through this there was a wild steep
walk which came out upon the moorland, and from thence there was a
track across the mountain to Hawes Water and Naddale, and on over
many miles to the further beauties of Bowness and Windermere. They
who knew the country, and whose legs were of use to them, could find
some of the grandest scenery in England within reach of a walk from
Vavasor Hall; but to others the place was very desolate. For myself,
I can find I know not what of charm in wandering over open, unadorned
moorland. It must be more in the softness of the grass to the feet,
and the freshness of the air to the lungs, than in anything that
meets the eye. You might walk for miles and miles to the north-east,
or east, or south-east of Vavasor without meeting any object to
arrest the view. The great road from Lancaster to Carlisle crossed
the outskirts of the small parish about a mile from the church, and
beyond that the fell