“Oh, by all means, Mr. Linton. I have acquired the most intense curiosity to hear about your fine company and their doings—pray compassionate my inquisitiveness.”
“But will you not join us sometimes?” said Linton; “can I not persuade you to make part of our little company? for I trust we shall be able to have some society worth showing you.”
The old man shook his head and made a gesture of refusal.
“Nay,” said he, “I am so unfitted for such scenes, and so grown out of the world's ways, that I am going to play hermit, and be churlish enough to lock the wicket that leads down to the cottage during the stay of your visitors—not against you, however. You'll always find the key at the foot of the holly-tree.”
“Thanks—I'll not forget it,” said Linton; and he took a cordial leave of his friends, and returned to the house, wondering as he went who were the punctual guests whose coming had anticipated his expectations.
He was not long in doubt upon this point, as he perceived Mr. Phillis, who, standing on the terrace before the chief entrance, was giving directions to the people about, in a tone of no small authority.
“What, Phillis! has your master arrived?” cried Linton, in astonishment.
“Oh, Mr. Linton!” cried the other, obsequiously, as hat in hand he made his approaches, “there has been such a business since I wrote—”
“Is he here? Is he come?” asked Linton, impatiently.
“No, sir, not yet; nor can he arrive before to-morrow evening. You received my letter, I suppose, about the result of the yachting-party and Lady Kilgoff?”