The unlucky
incident plunged him back into the depths, just as he had begun to
emerge. Slight as it was, it was no trifle to him, in spite of
Griffith's exclamation, 'How absurd! Is a fellow to be bound to
give an account of everything he looks at as if he were six years
old? Catch me letting my mother pry into my pockets! But you are
too meek, Bill; you perfectly invite them to make a row about
nothing!'
CHAPTER VII--THE INHERITANCE
'For he that needs five thousand pound to live
Is full as poor as he that needs but five.
But if thy son can make ten pound his measure,
Then all thou addest may be called his treasure.'
GEORGE HERBERT.
It was in the spring of 1829 that my father received a lawyer's
letter announcing the death of James Winslow, Esquire, of Chantry
House, Earlscombe, and inviting him, as heir-at-law, to be present
at the funeral and opening of the will. The surprise to us all was
great. Even my mother had hardly heard of Chantry House itself, far
less as a possible inheritance; and she had only once seen James
Winslow. He was the last of the elder branch of the family, a third
cousin, and older than my father, who had known him in times long
past. When they had last met, the Squire of Chantry House was a
married man, with more than one child; my father a young barrister;
and as one lived entirely in the country and the other in town,
without any special congeniality, no intercourse had been kept up,
and it was a surprise to hear that he had left no surviving
children.
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