Lord Hartledon's death was the next. He had an
incurable complaint, and his death followed close upon his son's. Lord
Elster became Earl of Hartledon; and he, Val, heir-presumptive.
Heir-presumptive! Val Elster was heir to all sorts of follies, but--
"Good morning to your lordship!"
The speaker was a man in a smock-frock, passing with a reaping-hook on
his shoulder. Mr. Elster's sunny face and cheery voice gave back the
salutation with tenfold heartiness, smiling at the title. Half the
peasantry had been used to addressing the brothers so, indiscriminately;
they were all lords to them.
The interruption awoke Mr. Elster from his thoughts, and he marched gaily
on down the middle of the road, noting its familiar features. The small
shops were on his right hand, the line of rails behind them. A few white
villas lay scattered on his left, and beyond them, but not to be seen
from this village street, wound the river; both running parallel with the
village lying between them. Soon the houses ceased; it was a small place
at best; and after an open space came the church. It lay on his right, a
little way back from the road, and surrounded by a large churchyard.
Almost opposite, on the other side of the road, but much further back,
was a handsome modern white house; its delightful gardens sloping almost
to the river. This was the residence of the Rector, Dr.
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