at Hunsdon, his grandfather's house, had been a moment of
some embarrassment both to him and to Mr. Beresford. Each had some
feeling of prejudice against the other, yet each felt that it was only
by having a mutual liking and regard that they could get on comfortably
together. Happily their very first meeting cleared up all doubts on the
subject. Mr. Beresford instantly decided that a grandson who so strongly
resembled his own family, and who even in the backwoods had managed to
grow up with the air and manner of a gentleman, would be, in a year or
two, quite qualified to become Squire of Hunsdon, and that in the
meantime he would be a pleasant companion.

Maurice, on the other hand, forgot his grandfather's former harshness,
and reproached himself for his unwillingness to come to England, when he
saw how solitary the great house was, and how utterly the feeble and
paralytic old man was left to the care and companionship of servants. He
wondered at first that this should be so, for the rich generally have no
want of friends; but the puzzle soon explained itself as he began to
know his grandfather better. Mr. Beresford had been a powerful and very
active man; he had been proud of his strength and retained it to old
age. Then, suddenly, paralysis came, and he was all at once utterly
helpless. His son was dead, his granddaughter married, and away from
him; his pride shrank from showing his infirmity to other relatives. So
he shut the world out altogether, and by-and-by the loneliness he thus
brought upon himself, growing too oppressive, he began to long for his
daughter's children.

The moment Maurice came, and he was satisfied that he should like him,
he became perfectly content. His property was entirely in his own power,
and one of his first proceedings was, rather ostentatiously, to make a
will which was to relieve him of all future trouble about its disposal;
his next to begin a regular course of instruction, intended to fit his
grandson perfectly for the succession which was now settled upon him.

In this way, two or three weeks passed on, and Maurice grew accustomed
to Hunsdon and to the sober routine of an invalid's life. It was not a
bright existence, certainly. The large empty house looked dreary and
deserted; and the library to which Mr. Beresford was carried every
morning, and where he lay all day immovable on his sofa, had the quiet
dulness of aspect which belongs to an invalid's room. There had been
some fe