"Do I?" said John, smiling. "Then my looks are false witnesses, if you mean by something on my mind, something unpleasant. For the truth is, my errand here is rather pleasant than otherwise."
And then he went on to tell, what I have already told, about Walter's return to England, and of his having been persuaded by him (John) and Walter's cousin to pay a visit of reconciliation to his old home.
"And I have just left him at Low Beech," continued Tincroft. "I thought it best to leave them when the ground was cleared. And, to tell the truth, I thought perhaps you would take me in for a night or two, Mr. Richard."
"A night or two! Ay, a month or two, if that's all. But you tell us strange news. And you have kept it all to yourself, all this while."
"I should have written," said John, "but Walter didn't want it known that he had come back till he had made up his mind what to do. So I couldn't very well write without making a secret of it, which I didn't care to do."
"Ah well, that's all right. And now the first thing that you have to do is to go in and make yourself comfortable. And the next will be to send down to the White Hart and get your luggage up here—"
"There's only a carpet-bag of mine, and another of Walter Wilson's," said John.
"Well, we will get them up here; and then if the prodigal son has not received a proper sort of welcome at home, we'll have him up here too."
And so walking on as they talked in this fashion, John Tincroft and his two old friends entered the house. And after this, all was done as had been thus hastily sketched—the post-chaise was sent back empty; the luggage was removed, first to the Manor House, and then, later in the day, Walter's portion of it was sent to the farm, John having ascertained, by ocular and oral demonstration, that Walter had been received with kindness, and that he had made up his mind to stay, for a few days at least, at his old home.
John truly declared, in further conversation with his friends at the Manor House, that he was not at all aware of the extent of Walter's possessions; for, in all their intercourse, the returned emigrant had avoided entering upon that question, except by saying that he had enough to enable him to pay his way, he hoped, and to leave a little something behind for his daughter when he was gone. Our friend was rather surprised, therefore, when Tom Grigson repeated to him what he had heard the year before, of Walter Wilson.