“So, my dear uncle, should you happen to hear of any eligible individual who would be content to pass his days among the dull but respectable commonplaces of English country life, pray try to secure him as a tenant for Park Newton, and render grateful for ever—Your affectionate nephew,
“Kester St. George.
“P.S. You say nothing in your note as to the state of your health. May I take it in this case that no news is good news, and that you are stronger and better than when I saw you last? I hope so with all my heart.”
To this General St. George sent the following answer:
“Dear Nephew,—I will become the tenant of Park Newton. If one member of the family doesn’t choose to live there, all the more reason why another should. No stranger shall call the old roof-tree his home while I am alive. I am better in health, thank Heaven, and you will probably see me in England before Christmas.—Yours,
“Lionel St. George.”
In taking this step General St. George was guided as much by Richard Dering’s wishes as by his own inclinations in the matter. “Nothing could have fallen out more opportunely for the purpose I have in view,” Richard had said to him when the advertisement was first noticed.
“I can’t see in what way it will assist your views for you to immure yourself at Park Newton,” said the General.
“I shall be there on the spot itself,” answered Richard; “and that seems to me one of the first essentials.”
“You fairly puzzle me,” said the General, with a shake of the head. “I can’t see what more you can do than you have done already. It seems to me like groping in the dark.”