He had an only daughter, Julia, an accomplished young lady as accomplishments went in those days. She could sing and accompany herself upon the spinet, could embroider beautifully, spin, and generally comport herself as a young lady of twenty-three should, who has a whole household on her shoulders. Of lady friends she had few, and her gentlemen friends were even still more scarce. One young gentleman, Wynne Clarge (a distant relative), who lived near, assumed, probably because of the non-existence of any rival, that he should some day claim her for his wife, but he was very apathetic in the matter. There was little real _love_ between them; they were passable friends, and that was all; he looked upon Julia as he did upon his horse--they were both nice in their way, and ministered to his wants; for the rest he took everything as a matter of course, simply because he had no rival. Things were running in their usual groove, when one day, early in December, a gentleman was announced, who had called to pay his respects to Mr. Simmonds. It was soon explained that he was Charles Benwell, the son of Mr. Simmonds’ sister, who had for many years resided in Virginia. The cousins (for Charles was invited to stay at the Manor House for a few weeks) fell in love with each other at first sight, and the love was so sincere and intense, that ere three weeks had passed, Mr. Simmonds was solicited for Julia’s hand. “Quick work, my boy,” quoth the genial old man. “Why, you have scarcely had time to know each other yet. It puts me in mind of Julius Cæsar, does this visit of yours, ‘He came, he saw, he conquered,’ and so have you, apparently. Well, well, we shall see. But you must not expect a fat dowry with her, for she can sing, ‘My face is my fortune,’ like the maid in the song; but still she will not be penniless--no, no! I will see that she has a suitable maintenance.” “As to that, Mr. Simmonds, you know I am over here for the purpose of selling the property which my poor mother--your sister--has left me. There are three estates of considerable size, amounting in the aggregate to something like twelve hundred acres, besides several houses, the documents appertaining to which I have left at the solicitor’s at Dulverton. “Now, Mr. Simmonds, tell me, have you any objection to my looking upon your daughter as my affianced bride?” Mr. Simmonds had no objection, but being a very cautious business man, would like just a glance at the documents empowering Charles to sell his late mother’s estates, simply as a matter of precaution, and to ascertain if there were a flaw anywhere that might cause any delay in the disposal of the property. “As to that,” rapturously vociferated Benwell, “the papers shall be in your hands by this time to-morrow, so that you may search them through, and then on glorious Christmas Eve give your sanction and blessing to our engagement.”