The young man brushed his moustache to conceal a smile, and ventured on the remark that he had been waiting to make.
"I beg your pardon; I trust that I did not startle you."
"Not at all," said Nora, with dignity. But she did not turn round.
"If you are looking for the gate into the grounds," he resumed, with great considerateness of manner, "you will find it about twenty yards further to your left. Can I have the pleasure of showing you the way?"
"No, thank you," said Miss Nora, very ungraciously. "I am waiting for my sister." She felt that some explanation was necessary to account for the fact that she did not immediately walk away.
"Oh, I beg your pardon," said the young man once more, but this time in a rather disappointed tone. Then, brightening—"But if your sister has gone up to our house why won't you come in too?"
"Your house?" said Nora, unceremoniously, and facing him with an air of fearless incredulity, which amused him immensely. "But you are not Mr. Brand?"
"My name is Brand," said the young fellow, smiling the sunniest smile in the world, and again raising his hat, with what Nora now noticed to be a rather foreign kind of grace: "and if you know it, I feel that it is honored already."
Nora knitted her brows. "I don't know what you mean," she said, impatiently, "but you are not Mr. Brand of the Hall, are you?"
"I live at the Hall, certainly, and my name is Brand—Cuthbert Brand, at your service."