Chapter 10

THE NEW SQUIRE.

"A word was brought,
Unto him,--the King himself desired his presence."

"The mystery of life
He probes; and in the battling din of things
That frets the feeble ear, he seeks and finds
A harmony that tunes the dissonant strife
To sweetest music."

This year the effort to keep Christmas in Seat-Sandal was a failure.
Julius did not return in time for the festival, and the squire was
unable to take any part in it. There had been one of those sudden,
mysterious changes in his condition, marking a point in life from which
every step is on the down-hill road to the grave. One day he had seemed
even better than usual; the next morning he looked many years older.
Lassitude of body and mind had seized the once eager, sympathetic man;
he was weary of the struggle for life, and had _given up_. This change
occurred just before Christmas; and Charlotte could not help feeling
that the evergreens for the feast might, after all, be the evergreens
for the funeral.

One snowy day between Christmas and New Year, Julius came home. Before
he said a word to Sophia, she divined that he had succeeded in his
object. He entered the house with the air of a master; and, when he
heard how rapidly the squire was failing, he congratulated himself on
his prudent alacrity in the matter. The next morning he was permitted an
interview. "You have been a long time away, Julius," said the squire
languidly, and without apparent interest in the subject.

"I have been a long journey."

"Ah! Where have you been? Eh?"

"To Italy."

The sick man flushed crimson, and his large, thin hands quivered
slightly. Julius noted the change in him with some alarm; for, though it
was not perhaps actually necessary to have the squire's signature to
Harry's relinquishment, it would be more satisfactory to obtain it. He
knew that neither Mrs. Sandal nor Charlotte would dispute Harry's deed;
but he wished not only to possess Seat-Sandal, but also the good-will
of the neighborhood, and for this purpose he must show a clear, clean
right to the succession. He had explained the matter to Sophia, and been
annoyed at her want of enthusiasm. She feared that any discussion
relating to Harry might seriously excite and injure her father, and she
could not bring herself to advise it. But the disapproval only made
Julius more determined to carry out his own views; and therefore, when
the squire asked, "Where have you been?" he told him the truth; and oh,
how cruel the truth can sometimes be!

"I have been to Italy."

"To see"--

"Harry? Yes."

Then, without waiting to inform himself