Was he not in some sort thereby in debt to Tandy's bound by gratitude to the place?
Should he not buy it--his private fortune being considerable--and there plant his hermitage?
Should he not renovate and transform it, redeeming it from questionable uses, by transporting thither, not himself only but his fine library, his famous herbarium, his cabinets of crystals, of coins, and of shells?
The idea captivated him.

He was weary of destruction, having seen it in full operation and practised on the gigantic scale.

Henceforth he would devote all the energy he possessed to construction--on however modest and private a one--to a building up, as personal protest against much lately witnessed wanton and chaotic pulling-down.
In prosecution of which purpose, hopeful once more and elate, bobbing merrily cork-like upon the surface of surrounding circumstance--although lamentably deficient, for the moment, in raiment befitting his position and his purse--Mr.Verity spent two days at the Stag's Head, in Marychurch High Street.

He made enquiries of all and sundry regarding the coveted property; and learned, after much busy investigation that the village, and indeed the whole Hundred of Deadham, formed an outlying and somewhat neglected portion of his acquaintance, Lord Bulparc's Hampshire estate.
Here was solid information to go upon.

Greatly encouraged, he took the coach to Southampton, and thence up to town; where he interviewed first Lord Bulparc's lawyers and then that high-coloured, free-living nobleman himself.
"Gad, sir," the latter assured him, "you're heartily welcome to the damn little hole, as far as I'm concerned, if you have the bad taste to fancy it.