The birds were singing, the sun shining; all nature was so beautiful and bright that my very soul was enraptured.

Then I caught a glimpse of gold from the laburnums, of purple from the lilacs, of white from the sweet acacia trees.

The carriage drove up a long grove of chestnut trees, and then for the first time I saw Crown Anstey.  The western sunbeams fell upon it.  I thought of that line of Mrs. Hemans: 

    “Bathed in light like floating gold.”

They showed so clearly the dainty, delicate tracing, the large, arched windows.  The house itself was built in the old Elizabethan style.  I found afterward that it was called Crown Anstey because it had belonged in former years to one of the queens of England.  The Queen’s Chamber was the largest and best room in it.  Report said that a royal head had often lain there; that the queen to whom the house had belonged had spent many of her sorrowful and happy hours there.  The Queen’s Terrace run all along the western wing, and was shaded by whispering lime trees.  Afterward I found many relics of this ancient time of royal possessions—­antique, out-of-the-way things, with the crown and royal arms of England upon them.  I was not a little proud of these historical treasures.  A broad flight of steps led from the lawn to a broad porch.  As I passed under it I figured to myself the gorgeous splendor of other days, when “knights and dames of high degree” had entered there.

An old butler, evidently an old family retainer, was the first person I saw.  He bowed low when I told him that I was Sir Edgar Trevelyan, “the heir come to take possession.”

I went through the magnificent house like a man in a dream.  Could it be possible that all this magnificence, all this grandeur, was mine?  Mine, these grand old rooms, with furniture and hangings that once served a queen; mine, these superb pictures and statues, these gems of art, this profusion of gold and silver plate?  I laughed and cried in the same breath.  I make no pretensions to being a strong-minded hero, and I was overcome.

Then, when I had some short time alone, the butler, whose name was Hewson, came back and told me the Red Room was ready for my use.  He had selected it as being the most comfortable.  Afterward I could, of course, take what rooms I liked.

I found myself in a large, spacious chamber, called the Red Room, from the prevailing tint of everything in it being crimson.  The three large windows were hung with crimson velvet; the carpet was crimson.  I opened one of the windows and looked over the glorious landscape, so full of sunshine, flowers and beauty, that my heart thrilled within me, and my soul did homage to the great Creator.

CHAPTER III.

Half an hour later I was summoned to the dining-room, where dinner was laid for me.  God knows that I had never coveted wealth or thought much of luxury—­I had been content with my lot.