"Yes;" answered his companion, "I had fifty-two pounds allowed me a-year, just a pound a-week, and this little house and garden; and leave to shoot rabbits, ducks, and wild fowl of all kinds, except pheasants, one buck in the year, to keep my hand in, and the right to roam about the park at all times and seasons without question. I made my own terms, and got them. But he who allowed all this is dead, and the people tell me it will not be binding upon his heir. Well, what matters it? I can work; and as soon as I heard how things were, I determined I would first try a gardener's life, as Mr. Tracy, over at Northferry, wants one. I never let myself be cast down by anything; and when you talked about despair, an hour ago, I thought, What a fool you must be." "I believe you are right," answered his guest, "your philosophy is far the best; but somehow I think you will not be obliged to take the gardener's place unless you like it. But there is some one knocking in the next room. I thought you were alone in the house. Are you married?" "Poo!" cried the other, "what should I do with a wife? Thank God, there is no female thing about the place but my setter bitch. That is the girl with the milk, knocking at the door in the park wall." And he walked out into the passage to receive what she had brought. While he was gone the other sat quite still by the fire, with his eyes fixed steadily upon it. He saw not a spark, however. His contemplations were very deep; and as the other came back again, with the milk in his hand, he murmured, "If they would take him, why not another?" "Well, you were saying just now," continued his companion, carrying on the conversation, "that you thought I should not be obliged to take the gardener's place. I should like to hear what you can know about it." "Tell me your name," said the visitor, "and I will let you hear." "You would not tell me yours, when I asked it," said the other, with a smile. "But it does not matter. My name is William Lockwood. Now, what do you say to that?" "That you have no occasion to take the gardener's place," replied his guest. "Sir Harry Winslow is dead, as you say; but yesterday morning, in order to see what directions he had given for his funeral, the will was opened, and read before the whole family, servants, and secretary, and all. I was there, and heard it, and he did you full justice, left you the annuity and all you have mentioned, and added a legacy of five hundred pounds." "And he left you nothing," said the other, fixing his eyes keenly upon him, "though you thought you had a right to expect it." "He left me dependent upon another," replied the young man, "which I will not be," and he bent down his head and thought bitterly.