ed by the comfort of companionship, he resumed his manhood,
and was able to look his affairs in the face, free from the morbid
feeling which had oppressed him. Gregory had his own things brought
down from the parsonage, and in order that there might be no
hesitation on his brother's part, sent a servant with a note to the
station desiring his brother to come at once to the Priory. They
resolved to wait dinner for him till after the arrival of a train
leaving London at five P.M. By that train the heir came, and between
seven and eight he entered the house which he had not seen since he
was a boy, and which was now his own.

The receipt of the telegram at the Moonbeam had affected Ralph, who
was now in truth the Squire, with absolute awe. He had returned late
from a somewhat jovial dinner, in company with his friend Cox, who
was indeed more jovial than was becoming. Ralph was not given to
drinking more wine than he could carry decently; but his friend, who
was determined to crowd as much enjoyment of life as was possible
into the small time allowed him before his disappearance from the
world that had known him, was noisy and rollicking. Perhaps it may
be acknowledged in plain terms that he was tipsy. They both entered
together the sitting-room which Ralph used, and Cox was already
calling for brandy and water, when the telegram was handed to Newton.
He read it twice before he understood it. His uncle dead!--suddenly
dead! And the inheritance all his own! In doing him justice, however,
we must admit that he did not at the time admit this to be the case.
He did perceive that there must arise some question; but his first
feeling, as regarded the property, was one of intense remorse that he
should have sold his rights at a moment in which they would so soon
have been realised in his own favour. But the awe which struck him
was occasioned by the suddenness of the blow which had fallen upon
his uncle. "What's up now, old fellow?" hiccupped Mr. Cox.

I wonder whether any polite reader, into whose hands this story
may fall, may ever have possessed a drunken friend, and have been
struck by some solemn incident at the moment in which his friend
is exercising the privileges of intoxication. The effect is not
pleasant, nor conducive of good-humour. Ralph turned away in disgust,
and leaned upon the chimney-piece, trying to think of what had
occurred to him. "What ish it, old chap? Shomebody wants shome tin?
I'll stand to you, old fe