“Well, it may be; perhaps so—yes;” which may be regarded as an expression of no very great confidence in the prophecy.
One day, Tournier was walking down the hill leading to Yaxley with his now customary gloom over-shadowing his face, when he saw a horseman approaching. The rider had been watching him for some little distance as he came up, and just before they met pulled up his horse, and bowing, said with a pleasant smile, “Good morning, Captain Tournier, I hope I see you well.”
“Thank you, sir,” said the other politely, but with some little surprise, “I am very well; but pardon me for asking who it is I have the pleasure of speaking to?”
“My name is Cosin, and I live at the old house facing the church close by where we are. So we are fellow-parishioners, habitants de la même commune, as you would say in France, I think.”
Again a polite bow. “But will you excuse me for asking how you know me?”
“Oh, I have heard of you from my friend, Major Kelly. I will not tell you what he said when he described you to me, but I knew you at once from his description; and I am very pleased to have met you.”
Another bow. “He told you, I suppose, that you would know me by my sour looks. They all tell me that, or something very similar.”
“Far from it. But you would not like me to repeat compliments. Yet the major did tell me you took your captivity too much to heart.”
“That is true, I daresay. But I cannot help it.”
“Then, if you will allow me, let me try and act the part of a friend and neighbour. We are close by each other, as you see. If you will do me the favour of calling on me at the Manor Farm whenever you may in course of time feel disposed, I shall be delighted: only the sooner the better.”