It was therefore with unaffected pleasure that, as they approached near the Castle Fontonore, Charles pointed out the landmarks to his brother.
“There now, there’s the lodge; isn’t it a beauty? That’s Widow Grove who is standing at the gate. Why, there’s quite a little crowd; I knew that there would be one. Take off your cap, Ernest, they are cheering for us. Did you ever see such magnificent timber in your life? so glorious with the autumn tints still upon them! That tree to the right is five hundred years old. Just look at the deer as they bound through that glade; and now—yes—now you have a glimpse of the castle, and there’s the flag waving from the top of the tower. Is it not an inheritance worth having, Ernest? Does it not surpass your expectations?”
“It does, it does; I never saw, never dreamed of anything so beautiful!”
And now, exciting no small stir amongst the tenants, grooms, stable-boys, and others who on various pretexts were crowding the entrance, the horses, urged on to speed by the postilion, dashed over the drawbridge, through the arched gateway into the paved court-yard, and stood chafed and foaming before the door, where the Hopes stood ready to receive the young master. Ernest had no time to gaze round on the romantic pile of building which surrounded him—the tower, the mullioned windows, the walls of massive stone, almost covered with various kinds of creepers; he was so anxious to have a sight of his new relations, who appeared at the entrance to welcome them. There was a rather stout gentleman, whom, from a family likeness to Charles, Ernest at once set down for his uncle; a tall, good-looking lady, in a superb silk dress that looked rich enough to stand upright by itself, and whose very rustle seemed to speak of formidable dignity; and a fairy-like young creature, a little older than himself, whom, at the first glance, Ernest thought exceedingly pretty.
Charles, accustomed from infancy to be a person of importance, sprang eagerly out of the carriage first, almost before the horses had stopped. He ran to his aunt. “Where is Lord Fontonore?” said she, passing him, and advancing to the door of the carriage. “Dear Clemmy!” exclaimed Charles, taking his cousin’s hand, “how long it is since we have met!” She returned his press indeed, but her eyes were not looking towards him; she had not even a glance to give her old companion, so eagerly was her gaze turned in another direction.