living rooms were moderate, even small, in dimensions, and not numerous.
The land he was expected to take consisted only of a few meadows,
which he could let if necessary, and a single labourer could manage the
garden.

Mrs. Ferrars was so delighted with the description of the galleried
hall, that she resolved on their taking Hurstley without even her
previously visiting it. The only things she cared for in the country
were a hall and a pony-chair.

All the carriages were sold, and all the servants discharged. Two or
three maid-servants and a man who must be found in the country, who
could attend them at table, and valet alike his master and the pony, was
the establishment which was to succeed the crowd of retainers who had
so long lounged away their lives in the saloons of Hill Street, and the
groves and gardens of Wimbledon.

Mr. and Mrs. Ferrars and their daughter travelled down to Hurstley in a
post-chaise; Endymion, with the servants, was sent by the stage-coach,
which accomplished the journey of sixty miles in ten hours. Myra said
little during the journey, but an expression of ineffable contempt and
disgust seemed permanent on her countenance. Sometimes she shrugged her
shoulders, sometimes she raised her eyebrows, and sometimes she turned
up her nose. And then she gave a sigh; but it was a sigh not of sorrow,
but of impatience. Her parents lavished attentions on her which she
accepted without recognition, only occasionally observing that she
wished she had gone with Endymion.

It was dusk when they arrived at Hurstley, and the melancholy hour did
not tend to raise their spirits. However, the gardener's wife had lit a