"Know what?" asked Mr. Preen. "That you were copying the deed, or the estate?"
"Eagles' Nest."
"I know it only from being solicitor to its owner. As my predecessor, Mr. Callard, was before me."
"That estate was ours, sir. When Mr. George Atkinson came into possession of it he turned us out. It had come to my father from his sister, Mrs. Atkinson, and we lived in it for a year, never dreaming it possible that it could be wrested from us. But at the year's-end a later will came to light: my aunt had left Eagles' Nest to Mr. George Atkinson, passing my father over."
Charles stopped to gather breath and firmness. The remembrance of his father, and of their subsequent misfortunes and privations, almost unnerved him. Mr. Preen listened in evident surprise.
"But—was your father Major Raynor, of Eagles' Nest?"
"Yes, sir."
"You never mentioned it."
"To what end?" returned Charles; while the stranger took a momentary glance over his shoulder at him, and then bent over his newspaper again, as though the matter and the young clerk were no concern of his. "Now that my position in life has so much altered, I would rather let people think I was born a copying-clerk, than that I was heir to Eagles' Nest."
"It sounds like a romance," cried Mr. Preen.