The voice proceeded from an old man wrapped up in a thick great-coat, though it was a warm day in June—a clear-eyed, small-featured, diminutive old man, who had sat the whole time, taking no apparent interest in the proceedings. All eyes were turned upon him in a moment, and he quietly repeated the awful monosyllable—"eight!" Mr Gillingham Howard looked at the old gentleman with detestation in every feature, for he felt that the person, whoever he was, was actually robbing him of a thousand pounds; and he would have had very few scruples in sending the culprit to Botany Bay for so tremendous an outrage. A sort of smile ran round the assemblage at seeing the sudden alteration produced on his countenance; and though he had determined not to give more than the original seven, he was ashamed to be cowed by an unknown individual at once; and after a few minutes' pause, and a glance of ineffable hatred at the little old man, who had relapsed into his state of contented unconcern, he looked at the auctioneer, and said, "Five hundred more!" Saying this, he put his hands into his pockets, and kept his eye fixed on his competitor. Without a moment's hesitation, the old gentleman nodded his head once more, and said, "Mr Puff, I'm in a hurry. Will this gentleman give ten thousand guineas? I will!"
The auctioneer gave one look to Mr Gillingham Howard, and saw, from the blank expression of that gentleman's countenance, that competition was at an end. The hammer fell, and seemed like a great rock on Mr Gillingham Howard's heart.
"Your name, if you please, sir," said Mr Puff.
The little old gentleman rose up and said, "Give me a pen and ink. I'll write an order for the money. My name is Thomas Roe, No. 20,. Riches Court."
Chapter II.
A week had passed, and Mr Gillingham Howard nursed his wrath, like Tam O'Shanter's wife, to keep it warm. The name of the successful purchaser had struck him with a feeling of horror; for as silence had brooded for fifty years over the history of his grandfather—and as the misty period preceding the purchase of Surbridge had given rise to a whole mythology of ancestry like to the anti-historic periods of Greece, and other imaginative nations—he looked upon the appearance of the veritable contemporary of that fabulous age in the same way as Romulus would have regarded any surviving friend and companion of the real bona fide robber or pig-driver to whom he probably owed his birth. It is needless, therefore, to say, that over all other feelings fear and disgust predominated. He determined to withdraw himself into still more aristocratic seclusion than before, and on no account to recognise the existence of his new neighbour. A month or two passed on, and no steps seemed taken on the part of the purchaser to avail himself of his new acquisition. Day after day Mr Gillingham Howard looked up to the tuft of trees that crowned the beautiful field beyond his park, and on seeing no symptoms of cutting down, nor other preparations for house-building, began to indulge in the pleasing anticipation that the old gentleman had no intention of the kind; and by cherishing this idea for some time, he succeeded at last in believing, that if he did in reality turn his ground to any such a purpose, he would be guilty of a fresh injustice. Three months had elapsed, and the beautiful colours of Autumn just unfurled themselves in order to be struck at the first broadside of a November frost—the sun was shining so warmly, that the leaves had every reason to be ashamed of their yellow complexions; and a young lady—like a butterfly awakened by the brightness of the day—fluttered forward from the porch of Surbridge Hall, dressed in all the hues of the rainbow. A green bonnet, a pink pelisse, a red shawl, and lilac parasol, were scarcely in keeping with the sylvan scene on which she hurriedly entered. She was very tall and very thin, and had been taught to walk by a Parisian promeneuse at a guinea a lesson; so that the tail of her gown described a half circle every time she stept, and her progress was apparently on the principle of the propeller screw. A small sketch-book was under her arm, and across her wrist she bore a supernumerary shawl. "If he should be there again," she thought, "he will surely speak. He looked as if he wished to do it last time. But he's bashful, perhaps, to a person of my rank. Poor fellow—how handsome he looked as he turned away!" The thought seemed to be a pleasant one, for a sort of smile rose to her thin lips as she dwelt on it, and she increased her pace. She opened a little gate, and moved rapidly on towards an ornamental poultry-house near the boundary of the estate. The extra shawl was soon spread upon the stump of a tree, the sketch-book opened, and with her eye intently fixed on the fantastic chimney of the hen-house, she listened for every sound. She moved the pencil as if busily engaged in sketching; but, strange to say, the figure produced by her touch, took (involuntarily as it were) the appearance of a very handsome young man, for whose bright eyes and smiling countenance there was no warrant in the twisted bricks and oddly shaped cans of the original. As if her drawing had been the mystic configurations of a conjurer, the spirit came when she did call for it; and with a side glance of her eye, she perceived at no great distance from her a young man, who seemed to be gazing at her with great earnestness, and was only prevented from addressing her by the awe, that formed of course the body-guard of a daughter of Mr Gillingham Howard. There are many ways in which it is possible to show that the said body-guard may be broken through, without subjecting the culprit to the penalties of high-treason. A short cough, as if preparatory to a conversation—a hurried look, and then a scarcely perceptible smile—a sort of fidgety uneasiness, as if the stump of the tree was something rather different from an air-cushion—such were the methods pursued by Miss Arabel Howard on the present occasion with complete success. The stranger combated with his respect, and going near to where the sketcher—again utterly unconscious of his presence, was putting in a tuft of ivy—he took off his hat and bowed—
"Ha!" exclaimed Miss Arabel, in a state of most becoming surprise.
"I hope I do not alarm you, madam," said the stranger; "though my sudden presence here requires an apology."
"Oh!—I beg—I feel sure—any gentleman—my father will be most happy to"——
"You are very kind. I perceive you appreciate the beauty of this situation as much as I do. You are sketching the gable and chimney"——