“Of course I do. I see nothing in it in the smallest degree improbable or unlikely.”
“Well, who is he? That is the main point; for it is clear you do not wish us to receive him as a friend of yours.”
“I say I 'd not have presented him here, certainly; but I 'll not go the length of saying he could n't have been known by any one in this house. He is one of those adventurous fellows whose lives must not be read with the same glasses as those of quieter people. He has knocked about the world for some five-and-twenty years, without apparently having found his corner in it yet. I wanted him,—what for, I shall probably tell you one of these days,—and some friends of mine found him out for me!”
“One of your mysteries, Maitland,” said Mark, laughing.
“Yes, 'one of my mysteries!”
“Of what nation is he?”
“There, again, I must balk your curiosity. The fact is, Mark, I can explain nothing about this man without going into matters which I am solemnly bound not to reveal. What I have to ask from you is that you will explain to your father, and of course to Lady Lyle and your sisters, the mistake that has occurred, and request that they will keep it a secret. He has already gone, so that your guests will probably not discuss him after a day or two.”
“Not even so much, for there's a break-up. Old Mrs. Maxwell has suddenly discovered that her birthday will fall on next Friday, and she insists upon going back to Tilney Park to entertain the tenantry, and give a ball to the servants. Most of the people here accompany her, and Isabella and myself are obliged to go. Each of us expects to be her heir, and we have to keep out competitors at all hazards.”
“'Why has she never thought of me?” said Maitland.
“She means to invite you, at all events; for I heard her consulting my mother how so formidable a personage should be approached,—whether she ought to address you in a despatch, or ask for a conference.”