Algernon, although not a little displeased with his heartless selfish son, received the young men with his usual kindness, but there was a shade of care upon his broad open brow, which told to Anthony a tale of anxiety and suffering, that caused him the deepest pain. As two whole years must necessarily elapse before Anthony could enter into holy orders, he determined to prosecute his studies in the country with their worthy curate, Mr. Grant, a gentleman of great learning, piety, and worth.
This arrangement was greatly to the satisfaction of his uncle, though Godfrey shook his shoulders, and muttered that it would be "Confounded dull work."
"I must introduce you, boys, to our new neighbors," said the Colonel, next morning, at breakfast. "But mind that you don't pull caps for Miss Whitmore, our charming young heiress."
"Who the deuce is she?" asked Godfrey.
"You knew that our poor old friend Henderson, of Hazelwood Lodge, was dead?"
"Dead! Why when did he die?" said Godfrey. "You never wrote us a word about it."
"Well, I thought I had. He died two months ago, and his property fell to a very distant relation. A captain in the navy. A man of small family and substantial means, who keeps a fine stud, a capital table, and a cross old maid, his sister, to superintend his household and take care of his daughter."
"And the young lady?"
"Is a beautiful simple-hearted girl; rather romantic, and the very reverse of the old maid. Aunt Dorothy is all ginger and vinegar. Niece Juliet, like fine Burgundy, sparkling with life and animation."
"By Jove! Anthony, good news for us. I give you warning, mister parson, that I mean to pass away the time in this dull place by making love to Miss Whitmore. So don't attempt to poach on my manor."