Part 1 (2/2)

”He is in the house?” I asked

Brutus nodded

”Then take this horse,” I said, and swung open the front door

A draft eddied through the broad old hallway as I stepped over the threshold, and there was a smell of wood smoke that told me the chimneys were still cold from disuse Someone had stored the hall full of coils of rope and sailcloth, but in theout its cycle, and the portraits of the Shelton fa, bros of books still lined the walls of the any table in the center was still littered with maps and papers There were the same rusted muskets and small swords in the rack by the fireplace, and in front of the fire in a great, high-backed ar of doubt, surprise and diffidence So and a differentof my spurs as I crossed the room, but he never soindolently back, watching the flaray satin s was fresh powdered, and his throat and wrists were framed in spotless lace The care of his person was almost the only tribute he paid to his past

Ihim while he watched the fire, before he turned and faced otten the words I had fra to meet a hard ordeal He kneell as I there was no reason why I should be glad to see him Yet he showed never a trace of uncertainty His eye never wavered His lips were drawn in the saave him the expression I e him The pallor I had remembered on his features had been burned off by a tropical sun That was all There was hardly a wrinkle about his eyes, hardly a tell-tale crease in his high forehead Wherever he had been, whatever he had done, his serenity was still unshaken It still lay over him, placid and impenetrable And when he spoke, his voice was cool and impassive and cast in pleasant h he eighing each word carefully, ”and why did you come? I think I told you in my letter there was no need unless you wished”

There was so cold and unfriendly in his speech I tried in vain to fight down a rising feeling of antagonislanced at each other coldly

”I think, sir,” I answered, ”from a sense of curiosity”

Almost as soon as I had spoken, I was sorry, for some sixth sense told race he rose from his chair and faced me, and his sain

”I should have known you would be frank,” he said, ”Your letter, ht etful as our feet weary of the path of life”

Yet I re that few people looked less weary than

I believe he read enuine aenuine eested pleasantly, ”it would interest you to knohy I have returned to these rather rigorous and uncongenial surroundings If not, I beg you to be frank again, Henry There's nothing that I dreadstupid”

”Sir,” I objected, ”I told you I was curious”

”To be sure you did,” he ad absent- very flattering

Can you believe it? It is largely on your account that I consented to revisit these familiar scenes!”

”No,” I said, ”I cannot, sir, since you ask ed his shoulders ”Far be it from me to overstrain your credulity, my son,” he observed blandly ”Let us adht factor of expedience--but slight, Henry, alible, in fact It happened that I was in a French port, and that while there I should think of you”

”Sir,” I said, ”You startle ardless of my interruption

”And what should be there also, but the _Eclipse_, ready to set for home!

Quite suddenly I determined to sail her back I, too, was curious,note ”Curious,” he continued gravely, ”to knohether you were a ht have reason to be proud So here we are, Henry Who said coincidence was the exception and not the rule?”

His last words drifted gently away, and in their wake followed an aard silence The logs were hissing in the fire I could hear the clock in the hall outside, and the beating of the vines against thepanes It was no sound, certainly, that made me whirl around to look behind me,--some instinct--that was all There was Brutus, not two feet froht arreat fist

”Do not disturb yourself, Brutus,” said entlemen, more or less, and will not come to blows My cloak, Brutus

I am sorry, e ideas Even here in America affairs see? There are horses in the stable and liquors in the cellar Choose all or either, Henry Personally, I find the”