Charles Raynor had been looking out from the open window. He had never seen so pretty a place before as this one, lying under the June sunshine. Hay was being made here, just as it had been in Somerset: and the sweet smell came wafted to him on the summer breeze. The lawns were beautifully kept, the flowers were perfect; shrubs clustered around, trees waved above. In the distance was stretched out a beautiful landscape, than which nothing could be more charming. Close by, curled the blue smoke from the little village of Grassmere, hidden by trees from the view of Eagles' Nest. Surely in this spot man could find all that his heart desired Charley sighed as he turned to the call: the lad had a strong love for the beauties of nature. "Had this been left to others instead of to ourselves, how I should envy them, now that I have seen it!" said Charles to himself. And he was not thinking then of any pecuniary return. Mr. Street looked keenly at him. He saw a tall, slender, good-looking young man; who, in manner at least, appeared somewhat indifferent, not to say haughty. "A proud young dandy, who thinks the world was made for him," decided the lawyer in his own mind. "In any profession, young sir?" asked Mr. Street. "Not yet," replied Charles. "I shall have, I expect, to go to college before thinking of one. If I think of one at all." "Better enter one," said Mr. Street, shortly. "The pleasantest life is the one that has its regular occupation; the most miserable a life of idleness." "That's true," put in the major. "Since I left the service, I have been like a fish out of water. Sometimes, before the day has well begun I wish it was ended, not knowing what to do with myself." "Not many weeks ago, Mrs. Atkinson was talking to me about that very thing, major. She fancied you would have done better not to sell out." "Ay; I've often said so myself. Poor Ann! I should like to have seen more of her. But she had her crotchets, you know, Street. Did she suffer much at the last, I wonder?" "No, she went off quite easily, as one who is worn out. She is lying in the red room: I have been up to see her. A good woman; but, as you observe, major, crotchety on some points." "Why, would you believe it, Street, she once thought of disinheriting me." "I know it," replied the lawyer. "It was the year following her husband's death. And perhaps," he added, with as much of a smile as ever came to his lips, "you owe it to me that she did not do so." "Indeed! How was that?"