In a word, content with the result of his anonymous letter, he confined himself now to cannily out-living the wrongful heir--his cousin.
One fine frosty day the chimneys of Huntercombe began to show signs of life; vertical columns of blue smoke rose in the air, one after another, till at last there were about forty going.
Old servants flowed down from London.

New ones trickled in, with their boxes, from the country.

Carriages were drawn out into the stable-yard, horses exercised, and a whisper ran that Sir Charles was coming to live on his estates, and not alone.
Richard Bassett went about inquiring cautiously.
The rumor spread and was confirmed by some little facts.
At last, one fine day, when the chimneys were all smoking, the church-bells began to peal.
Richard Bassett heard, and went out, scowling deeply.

He found the village all agog with expectation.
Presently there was a loud cheer from the steeple, and a flag floated from the top of Huntercombe House.Murmurs.Distant cheers.

Approaching cheers.