helpless. His son was dead, his granddaughter married, and away from
him; his pride shrank from showing his infirmity to other relatives. So
he shut the world out altogether, and by-and-by the loneliness he thus
brought upon himself, growing too oppressive, he began to long for his
daughter's children.

The moment Maurice came, and he was satisfied that he should like him,
he became perfectly content. His property was entirely in his own power,
and one of his first proceedings was, rather ostentatiously, to make a
will which was to relieve him of all future trouble about its disposal;
his next to begin a regular course of instruction, intended to fit his
grandson perfectly for the succession which was now settled upon him.

In this way, two or three weeks passed on, and Maurice grew accustomed
to Hunsdon and to the sober routine of an invalid's life. It was not a
bright existence, certainly. The large empty house looked dreary and
deserted; and the library to which Mr. Beresford was carried every
morning, and where he lay all day immovable on his sofa, had the quiet
dulness of aspect which belongs to an invalid's room. There had been
some few visitors since Maurice's arrival, and what neighbours there
were within a reasonable distance seemed disposed to be as friendly as
possible; but still the monotony of this new life left him enough, and
more than enough, leisure for speculations on the past and future, which
had a large mixture of disturbing and uneasy thoughts to qualify their
brightness. He waited, too, with considerable curiosity for the return
of his cousin, who, with her husband, was away from home when he
arrived. She had married a neighbouring baronet, and when at home was a
frequent visitor at Hunsdon; and this was all that Maurice could learn
about her.