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CHAPTERIV
THEOLDSQUIREANDALICE
MAYBELL.
Wyvernisaveryprettyoldhouse.Itisbuiltofalight
graystone,inthelaterTudorstyle.Aportion
ofitisovergrownwiththickivy.Itstandsnotfaraway
fromthehighroad,amonggrandoldtrees,andisone
ofthemostinterestingfeaturesinarichlywooded
landscape,thatrisesintolittlehills,and,breakinginto
rockyandforest-darkenedglens,andsometimesinto
dimplinghollows,wherethecattlepasturebeside
pleasantbrooks,presentsoneoftheprettiestcountries
tobefoundinEngland.
Theoldsquire,HenryFairfield,hasseenhissummer
andhisautumndaysout.Itiswinterwithhimnow.
HeisnotapleasantpictureofanEnglishsquire,but
such,nevertheless,astheoldportraitsonthewalls
ofWyvernhereandtheretestify,thefamilyofFairfield
haveoccasionallyturnedout.
Heisnotcheerynorkindly.Bleak,dark,andaustere
asanorthernwinter,istheageofthatgauntoldman.
Heistooproudtogrumble,andneveraskedanyone
forsympathy.Butitisplainthathepartswithhis
strengthandhispleasuresbitterly.Ofcourse,seeing
theoldchurchyard,downinthehollowattheleft,
ashestandsofaneveningonthesteps,thoughtswill
strikehim.Hedoesnotacquiesceindeath.Heresents
theorderofthings.Buthekeepshisrepinings
tohimself,andretaliateshismortificationonthe
peopleabouthim.
Thoughhishairissnowy,andhisshouldersstooped,
thereisthatinhislengthofboneandhisstaturethat
accordswiththetraditionofhisearlyprowessand
activity.
Hehaslongbeenawidower–fullythirtyyears.