He still occupied chambers in the Temple; he still called himself a
barrister; but he had no longer any desire to succeed at the bar.
His brother Lionel had become rector of Hallgrove, a village in
Dorsetshire, where there was a very fine old church and a very small
congregation. It was one of those fat livings which seem only to fall
to the lot of rich men.
Lionel had the tastes of a typical country gentleman, and he found
ample leisure to indulge in his favourite amusement of hunting, after
having conscientiously discharged his duties.
The poor of Hallgrove had good reason to congratulate themselves on the
fact that their rector was a rich man. Mr. Dale's charities seemed
almost boundless to his happy parishioners.
The rectory was a fine old house, situated in one of those romantic
spots which one scarcely hopes to see out of a picture. Hill, wood, and
water combined to make the beauty of the landscape; and amid verdant
woods and fields the old red-brick mansion looked the perfection of an
English homestead. It had been originally a manor-house, and some
portions of it were very old.
Douglas Dale called Hallgrove the Happy Valley. Neither of the brothers
had yet married, and the barrister paid frequent visits to the rector.
He was glad to find repose after the fatigue and excitement of London
life. Like his brother, he delighted in the adventures and perils of
the hunting field, and he was rarely absent from Hallgrove during the
hunting season.
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