he abode that looked so cheerless, and which had so evidently hung long
on hand, was the property of Squire Hazeldean. It had been built by his
grandfather on the female side--a country gentleman who had actually been
in Italy (a journey rare enough to boast of in those days), and who, on
his return home, had attempted a miniature imitation of an Italian villa.
He left an only daughter and sole heiress, who married Squire Hazeldean's
father; and since that time, the house, abandoned by its proprietors for
the larger residence of the Hazeldeans, had been uninhabited and
neglected. Several tenants, indeed, had offered themselves: but your
Squire is slow in admitting upon his own property a rival neighbor. Some
wanted shooting. "That," said the Hazeldeans, who were great sportsmen and
strict preservers, "was quite out of the question." Others were fine folks
from London. "London servants," said the Hazeldeans, who were moral and
prudent people, "would corrupt their own, and bring London prices."
Others, again, were retired manufacturers, at whom the Hazeldeans turned
up their agricultural noses. In short, some were too grand, and others too
vulgar. Some were refused because they were known so well: "Friends are
best at a distance," said the Hazeldeans. Others because they were not
known at all: "No good comes of strangers," said the Hazeldeans. And
finally, as the house fell more and more into decay, no one would take it
unless it was put into thorough repair: "As if one was made of money!"
said the Hazeldeans. In short, there stood the house unoccupied and
ruinous; and there, on its terrace, stood the two forlorn Italians,
surveying it with a smile at each other, as, for the first time since they
set foot in England, they recognized, in dilapidated pilasters and broken
statues, in a weed-grown terrace and the remains of an orangery, something
that reminded them of the land they had left behind.

On returning to the inn, Dr. Riccabocca took the occasion of learning from
the innkeeper (who was indeed a tenant of the Squire's) such particulars
as he could collect; and a few days afterward Mr. Hazeldean received a
letter from a solicitor of repute in London, stating that a very
respectable foreign gentleman had commissioned him to treat for Clump
Lodge, otherwise called the "Casino;" that the said gentleman did not
shoot--lived in great seclusion--and, having no family, did not care about
the repairs of the place, provided only