‘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, 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 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.
