s arrival in the most abject state of
poverty; he addressed his letter to the bishop's country residence, where
he knew, as it was the summer season, he would certainly be. He and his
father then set off on foot towards that residence--a palace!

The bishop's palace was not situated above fifty miles from the port
where they had landed; and at a small inn about three miles from the
bishop's they proposed (as the letter to him intimated) to wait for his
answer before they intruded into his presence.

As they walked on their solitary journey, it was some small consolation
that no creature knew them.

"To be poor and ragged, father," the younger smilingly said, "is no
disgrace, no shame, thank Heaven, where the object is not known."

"True, my son," replied Henry; "and perhaps I feel myself much happier
now, unknowing and unknown to all but you, than I shall in the presence
of my fortunate brother and his family; for there, confusion at my ill
success through life may give me greater pain than even my misfortunes
have inflicted."

After uttering this reflection which had preyed upon his mind, he sat
down on the road side to rest his agitated limbs before he could proceed
farther. His son reasoned with him--gave him courage; and now his hopes
preponderated, till, after two days' journey, on arriving at the inn
where an answer from the bishop was expected, no letter, no message had
been left.

"He means to renounce us," said Henry, trembling, and whispering to his
son.

Without disclosing to the people of the house who they were, or from whom
the letter or the message they inquired for was to have come, they
retired, and consulted what steps they were now to pursue.

Previously to his writing to the bishop, the younger Henry's heart, all
his inclinations, had swayed him towards a visit to the village in which
was his uncle's former country-seat, the beloved village of Anfield, but
respect to him and duty to his father had made him check those wishes;
now they revived again, and, with the image of Rebecca before his eyes,
he warmly entreated his father to go with him to Anfield, at present only
thirty miles distant, and thence write once more; then again wait the
will of his uncle.

The father consented to this proposal, even glad to postpone the visit to
his dignified brother.

After a scanty repast, such as they had been long inured to, they quitted
the inn, and took the road towards Anfield.

CHAPTER