‘It was thought,’ declared the agent, ‘that it would just suit a gentleman from Australia, being a bit wild-like, and not too trim and polished up, as it were.’ He seemed surprised at being curtly informed that a man did not come all the way from Australia to encumber himself with an indifferent house and exceptionally bad land, as the attempts at crops plainly showed; that he had been misled by the advertisement, and would be sorry to take the place as a gift.
This was a bad beginning, but his wife comforted him by saying that she could see that he had been so bored by inaction that he was evidently glad of the chance of taking a journey somewhere, if only to end in disappointment; that she was glad to see that he had so much of his old energy left; that she must go with him next time, when better counsels would prevail, and success attend them eventually.
At length, after tedious delays and disappointing inspections of every kind of country house—mansion, [316] ]manor, and historic castellated abode—even including a moat, an altogether satisfactory purchase was effected. The place was historic, a royal princess had lived there under strict guardianship during her nonage. The place was certainly far from modern in outward appearance, but the interior had been restored tastefully, and in accordance with the latest requirements, by the owner, who, having fallen upon evil times, was only too pleased to take a moderate price in cash for a property which, with costly renovation and additions, had cost a third more than the sale price. When the probable purchaser and his wife ran down by train to have a full and leisurely inspection, they were more pleased than they cared to show at the coup d’œil.
It was the early forenoon. The day was fine—the air mild, almost breezeless; the great oaks, the venerable elms, the ancient walls which surrounded the ‘pleasaunce,’ gave the whole place the look of a monarch’s retreat for the time when he might wish to rest from the cares of State and enjoy a rare solitude, apart from the crowding cares of sovereignty and the distraction of churchmen and contending nobles.
Such indeed had Hexham Hall been in the days of old. Princesses had lived there in the time of their tutelage—princesses who must have chafed, and perhaps cherished rebellious thoughts; perhaps dreamed over the policy which they would carry out when they became queens—for queens they did become in due course of time, and having uncontrolled power, they did carry out that [317] ]policy; nor was blood spared in the process which a lofty and fearless ideal of the ‘might, majesty, and dominion’ of Britain demanded. An estate of twelve thousand acres went with the property.
It was favourably situated in the matter of sport and social centres. Several packs of hounds met within easy distance. The shooting was good, and had been carefully preserved. There was a trout stream such as would have delighted the heart of the ‘Compleat Angler,’ particularly a stretch of water not far from a ruined mill, which, owing to latter-day mechanical inventions, had been put out of commission.
There was a gamekeeper who went with the estate, and whose keen, courageous expression at once enlisted the sympathies of the younger Australians. His cottage, his neatly dressed wife and children, with their air of deep respectfulness and old-fashioned curtseys, delighted them beyond mention. The coops with young pheasants—the lovely setters and retrievers—private property of the keeper—such a dear feudal name, as Vanda observed: these were some of the new possessions which went far to reconcile the daughters of the house to their removal from the Hotel Cecil, with its endless joys.
The purchase of the baronial residence of Hexham Hall had been carried to completion with marvellous ease and celerity.
The Bannerets’ legal representative had met the family lawyer of the Hexham properties, and after certain conferences, with more or less courteous [318] ]but pointed argument, a cheque signed by Arnold Banneret for the largest amount ever drawn by him was handed over, in exchange for which acquittances and title-deeds, some of curiously ancient date, were deposited in Messrs. Close and Carforth’s deed-box.
The Australian family now felt themselves to be invested with all manner of feudal attributes; not perhaps quite including the privilege of ‘pit and gallows,’ but, for all that, delightfully autocratic of flavour and suggestion. They began to feel reconciled.