"It is, sir!—it is quite equal to Virginia.—And, speaking of places, you might get Rousby Hall, one of the finest we have. You have not seen it?"
"No, I have seen no place but this one—and it, I suppose, is not in the market."
Old Marbury shook his head, decisively.
"Not at any price!" he said. "But Rousby Hall has a woman for the heiress—she is here, now, young Mrs. Plater. Colonel Rousby, her father, might be willing to sell it, for a good price, and pass his winters in Annapolis, and his summers with his daughter, at Sotterly.... I do not know any other that could be had—Maynadier's is out of the question—and Plater's, and Fitzhugh's, and Snowden's, and Bladen's, and Ridgeley's—no, Rousby Hall is the only one.—Do you wish to see it?"
"Yes—sometime before we leave here—just a glance. I would not wish to appear, yet, you understand—not until my affairs are more definitely arranged."
"Very well," said Marbury. "Any help I can give is yours for the asking. Meanwhile, I can ascertain whether Colonel Rousby would consider selling."
"Yes—it would be very kind," said Parkington, as he dismounted. "Meanwhile, not a word."
"Hum-m!" thought Marbury. "I shall not be the one to tell it.... Going to settle here—maybe! He is not married—I wonder if Judith might take a fancy to him.... Hum-m!... She will have a very good sized dowery, and an Englishman does not despise such things.... Well, we shall see.... Hum-m!" And he went on to the wharf.
And Parkington, watching him ride down the avenue, was thinking.