We sat down, and I waited eagerly for him to begin. There was a patch of brilliantly coloured wild-flowers at our feet which filled the air all round with a dreamy, intoxicating odour. It was a perfume which has lingered with me even to this day.
"Ay, I have been ill," he began, slowly, "almost to death, but death would have none of me. I have little, very little to tell you, Hugh, my boy. Since we parted in England I have wandered about in many countries seeking to find an honourable manner of disposing of my life, but in vain. The dead calm of peace which seems to rest all over Europe can be but the hush before a storm, but the storm is long in coming—long in coming.
"I have done nothing save wander about," he added, after a moment's pause, "after the fashion of a tramp, carrying my luggage with me, and calling no place home. A few miles from here, about two months ago, I thought that my release had come. I swooned suddenly in a lonely part of yonder range of mountains, and when I came to I was still lying on the track, but a fever had laid hold of me, and I thought then that surely I must die. I became unconscious again, and when I recovered my senses for the second time I was no longer lying on the ground, but was in a rude sort of a tent, lying on a bed of dried leaves and heath. One of the roughest-looking men I ever saw, dirty, but gaudily dressed, with a brace of pistols stuck in his belt, was sitting by my side, and through the opening of the tent I could see more like him moving backwards and forwards, and shouting to one another in some villainous patois. For a long time I couldn't imagine into whose hands I had fallen, but they were very kind to me, and brought me plenty of everything they could get—grapes, and olives, and wild aloes, and wine. At last one of them, who seemed to be their chief, and who spoke French, came in to talk with me. Then I knew that these men who had taken such care of me were really bandits, brigands. They had taken nothing of mine, and would accept nothing in return for their kindness. They rob the rich only, the chief assured me. I daresay you'll be surprised to hear, Hugh, that when I began to get stronger and able to get about, I felt quite loth to leave the place. I felt that there I was, at any rate, right out of the world, and secure from any casual questioning. And the spot where they have fixed their abode is the most lovely I ever looked upon. So I had a talk with their chief one day—José his name is—and it was arranged that I should pay a small sum to them for the use of the tent, and for supplies of fruit and olives and wine which the peasants bring them in abundance; and, in short, that I should live with them, though not be of them. I have felt at rest there, though at times the weariness of complete inaction is hard to bear. Only a few days ago I travelled into Palermo for the first time. There I bought the Times, and saw your advertisement, and answered it, and the rest you know. I sent José's son, a quick little fellow he is, into the town to hunt you out, and bring you here. God bless you for coming, Hugh. It has done me good to see you again."
He ceased, and my heart was very heavy. Through every word he uttered, and in his whole appearance, I could trace how thoroughly he had renounced all idea of again mixing with the world, and yet what could his present state of existence be but a state of living death?
"And now for my story, father," I said, as lightly as I could. "First, Marian is married."
"Marian married!" He repeated the words slowly, with a sort of passive wonderment in his tones.
"Yes, Marian is married to a clergyman, and a very good fellow, and I, father—I have been in a situation."
He frowned, and repeated the words slowly to himself, as though displeased with it.
"A situation? What sort of a one?"
"I have had the management of a large estate. It was pleasant work."