“Ah! I thinks I do remember it now,” said Master Holwell. “I should think it’s a matter of twelve yearn ago. I suppose I may sell it without fear of the gentleman’s claiming it again.” “Not more than twelve years!” said Walter, anxiously, for it was some seventeen years since his father had been last heard of by his family. “Why it may be thirteen, Sir, or so, more or less, I can’t say exactly.” “More likely fourteen!” said the Dame, “it can’t be much more, Sir, we have only been a married fifteen year come next Christmas! But my old man here, is ten years older nor I.” “And the gentleman, you say, was at Mr. Courtland’s.” “Yes, Sir, that I’m sure of,” replied the intelligent Mrs. Holwell; “they said he had come lately from Ingee.” Walter now despairing of hearing more, purchased the whip; and blessing the worldly wisdom of Sir Peter Hales, that had thus thrown him on a clue, which, however faint and distant, he resolved to follow up, he inquired the way to Squire Courtland’s, and proceeded thither at once. CHAPTER VII. WALTER VISITS ANOTHER OF HIS UNCLE’S FRIENDS.--MR. COURTLAND’S STRANGE COMPLAINT.--WALTER LEARNS NEWS OF HIS FATHER, WHICH SURPRISES HIM.--THE CHANGE IN HIS DESTINATION. God’s my life, did you ever hear the like, what a strange man is this! What you have possessed me withall, I’ll discharge it amply. --Ben Jonson’s Every Man in his Humour. Mr. Courtland’s house was surrounded by a high wall, and stood at the outskirts of the town. A little wooden door buried deep within the wall, seemed the only entrance. At this Walter paused, and after twice applying to the bell, a footman of a peculiarly grave and sanctimonious appearance, opened the door. In reply to Walter’s inquiries, he informed him that Mr. Courtland was very unwell, and never saw “Company.”--Walter, however, producing from his pocket-book the introductory letter given him by his father, slipped it into the servant’s hand, accompanied by half a crown, and begged to be announced as a gentleman on very particular business. “Well, Sir, you can step in,” said the servant, giving way; “but my master is very poorly, very poorly indeed.” “Indeed, I am sorry to hear it: has he been long so?” “Going on for ten--years, sir!” replied the servant, with great gravity; and opening the door of the house which stood within a few paces of the wall, on a singularly flat and bare grass-plot, he showed him into a room, and left him alone. The first thing that struck Walter in this apartment, was its remarkable lightness. Though not large, it had no less than seven windows. Two sides of the wall, seemed indeed all window! Nor were these admittants of the celestial beam-shaded by any blind or curtain,-- “The gaudy, babbling, and remorseless day”