My heart suddenly started.
"And you will find yourself here with revenues ample for the moderate purposes of a gentleman. You may live in the country, or in the city, as you please; but my desire is that you should live here, and continue in the paths of your grandfather and myself: for he was a just Englishman, and taught me that no one must take without an equivalent; and that a landlord owed duties to his people, of the value of the moneys they paid him. Formerly the lord gave his vassals armed protection for their rents: now there is nothing to which the law forces him; thus his returns must be fixed by his sense of duty."
"Do not fear that I am proposing anything too sombre, Chamilly: It is an agreeable life. There is no demand for your being shut up in the place; and one can surround himself very conveniently with his private tastes."
But I did not feel the scheme repugnant. The house and locality had struck me before as a comfortable retirement to prosecute the study of Art, "and perhaps, I might bring here"—(I dared not put her name into syllables in such a flight of hope.)
"You will find, though, more than you anticipate to do"
I looked up.
"And greater undertakings to accomplish properly than I have been strong enough to meet."
"What do you mean, sir?" I enquired.
"These poor simple people," he said, "have many enemies, and they sometimes do not know their friends. You are their hereditary guardian. Instead of mediæval protection, you must give them that of a nineteenth century Chief."
"A nineteenth century Chief?" I could not but exclaim, "What is a nineteenth century Chief?"