"We received news of Mrs. Atkinson's death yesterday afternoon; her coachman was sent up with the tidings, and I wrote to you at once," observed Mr. Street. "As you are sole inheritor, excepting a few trifling legacies, and also executor, I thought it well, as I stated in my letter, that you should be here."
"Just so," said the major. "When did you arrive yourself?"
"I came down this morning."
"And I and Charley started off in a hurry to catch the ten-o'clock train—and I came away in my wrong boots—and Charley has been laughing at me. You don't know him, Street—my eldest son and heir. Charley, come here, sir, and be introduced to Mr. Street."
Charles Raynor had been looking out from the open window. He had never seen so pretty a place before as this one, lying under the June sunshine. Hay was being made here, just as it had been in Somerset: and the sweet smell came wafted to him on the summer breeze. The lawns were beautifully kept, the flowers were perfect; shrubs clustered around, trees waved above. In the distance was stretched out a beautiful landscape, than which nothing could be more charming. Close by, curled the blue smoke from the little village of Grassmere, hidden by trees from the view of Eagles' Nest. Surely in this spot man could find all that his heart desired Charley sighed as he turned to the call: the lad had a strong love for the beauties of nature.
"Had this been left to others instead of to ourselves, how I should envy them, now that I have seen it!" said Charles to himself. And he was not thinking then of any pecuniary return.
Mr. Street looked keenly at him. He saw a tall, slender, good-looking young man; who, in manner at least, appeared somewhat indifferent, not to say haughty.
"A proud young dandy, who thinks the world was made for him," decided the lawyer in his own mind.
"In any profession, young sir?" asked Mr. Street.
"Not yet," replied Charles. "I shall have, I expect, to go to college before thinking of one. If I think of one at all."