Of one thing he was conscious,--that if Bragton should
become his, it would be his duty to live there. He must move his
books, and pipes, and other household gods from Hoppet Hall and
become an English Squire. Would it be too late for him to learn to
ride to hounds? Would it be possible that he should ever succeed in
shooting a pheasant, if he were to study the art patiently? Could
he interest himself as to the prevalence or decadence of ground
game? And what must he do with his neighbours? Of course he would
have to entertain Mr. Mainwaring and the other parsons, and perhaps
once in the year to ask Lord Rufford to dine with him. If Lord
Rufford came, what on earth would he say to him?
And then there arose another question. Would it not be his duty to
marry,---and, if so, whom? He had been distinctly told that Mary
Morton had given her heart to some one, and he certainly was not
the man to ask for the hand of a girl who had not a heart to give.
And yet thought that it would be impossible that he should marry
any other person. He spent hours in walking about the grounds,
looking at the garden and belongings which would so probably be his
own within a week, and thinking whether it would be possible that
he should bring a mistress to preside over them. Before he reached
home he had made up his mind that only one mistress would be
possible, and that she was beyond his reach.
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