'Queer place!' said the stranger; 'I wish genius may never fare worse. What can a man enjoy more than ease and sumptuous abundance?' and he seated himself carelessly on his portmanteau, while he pushed the only chair towards Mr. Brimble.
The squire answered with a chuckle. Biddy Sparks' lodger revelling in ease and sumptuous abundance! The stranger smiled at his merriment, and said, 'If you had passed through what some travellers have,—I speak not of myself,—you would call this accommodation fit for a prince.'
The tone and manner which accompanied these words convinced Mr. Brimble that the person before him was no starved-out son of genius, that fed ill from an empty pocket; and as the conversation continued he became more and more impressed with the feeling that he was a gentleman who wanted no help, and, moreover, a man of highly gifted and cultivated mind. A thorough lover of ease in mind and body, Mr. Brimble enjoyed nothing more than amusement without the cost of exertion; he was quite elated at the idea of having found a pleasant companion in so near a neighbour, whose company could be enjoyed without the bondage of ceremony. On the other hand, the stranger, keen in the perception of character, had at a glance read that of his visitor; kindness and candour were its leading features: the effect was mutual satisfaction.
At last, being satisfied that the stranger was travelling merely from amusement, and lived as he did from preference, the squire said, with a frank smile, as he proffered his snuff-box, 'Well, now for the truth. I came here fancying that you were a poor genius, at your wits' end for money, and I intended asking you to give lessons to my daughter; but, as I happen to be wrong in everything but the genius, instead of that come and dine with us to-day. We shall be alone, I believe; but even then we may hope to be as entertaining as Sparks and his granny.'
The stranger smiled, but shook his head. He glanced at his dress. 'I have no means of making a toilet here,' he said, 'and couldn't appear thus before ladies.'
'Nonsense!' said Mr. Brimble; 'you are fit for court. Mrs. Brimble and my children are quite indifferent to such matters; you are an idle man, and you've no excuse. Walk down with me now, and make a long day of it.' The stranger, still declaring that he could not then accept his hospitality, added that he would gladly walk with him, and they left the house together.
'This avenue, you see,' said the squire, 'amounts to a private road. None but our own people intrude on it; so that my daughters can ride or walk to their favourite haunts in the village and around it, without any fear of molestation, without the tediousness of an attendant. We are all for liberty; it is as much our delight as if we had been born birds of the air. Anything like etiquette—when it is constraint—is our torment. Now you see that little pathway that opens into a very pretty little wood, where there are all sorts of rustic gimcracks put together to please the ladies, who by the way seldom go there,—dove-house, hermitages, labyrinths, and so on. Over yonder hill lies the Dew, a fine old place going to ruin; the estate at one point joins mine, or would, but for a trout stream. Are you an angler? Capital! then we shall have some sport together. I preserve, or pretend to do, but I'm poached on most unmercifully, and can't help myself. There's the house—"Hall," we call it—a good place enough. But before we go in, I must take you round my stables; I have just bought a hunter, high price—you shall judge him,' etc.
Thus Mr. Brimble talked; while the stranger, when his turn came, amused and interested the squire with his anecdotes of persons, places, and things. 'Why, you've been everywhere,' he cried, 'and know all the world! Here's my purchase,' as they entered the stable; and he was soon listening with the deepest admiration to his companion's strictures on the hunter, and the peculiarities of the Arab and other horses; but when a suggestion was made as to an improvement in ventilating the stables, the squire was rather nettled. He was sure nothing could be better than his own plan; he'd no doubt Mr. Jobson might be right as to stables of other climates; but, etc. And in much vehemence did he continue the argument, till he found himself walking under the windows of the room in which the ladies were accustomed to sit during the morning.
Suddenly stopping, and forgetting stables and all connected with them, he pointed to Charity, who was sitting at one of them, and said, 'There's your pupil that was to have been. Let us go in. Mr. Jobson—Mrs. Brimble and my daughters. Ah, Miss Cruden! I didn't see your carriage. How's the doctor? My dear, Mr. Jobson is a friend of our old friend General Topham.'
'Scarcely a friend,' said the stranger, returning the salutation of the ladies with grave but frank courtesy.