“I appreciate your words, sir,” he said, “and I can understand your feelings. I have felt myself that it was never wise to go where one might not be welcome, and yet chance plays us such tricks that neither your wish nor mine is granted.”
The old man then raised his head a little higher on the pillow. A spark leaped from the burning eyes.
“A lad of spirit,” he said. “I would not withhold praise where praise is due. I recall meeting some one who resembled you very much. Perhaps a brother of yours, eh?”
“No, he was not my brother.”
“Well, it does not matter and we will not pursue the subject. How does it happen that you have come into this hillside castle of mine?”
Young Mason saw a flicker of amusement in the eyes of the old man. He was aware that in his muddy uniform he made no imposing figure, but his spirit was as high as ever, and the touch of recklessness was still there.
“I saw some men coming down the path,” he replied; “men with whom I do not care to associate, and I turned aside to avoid them. I beheld the open door and stepped within, but I did not know the chamber was occupied, and it was far from my purpose to intrude upon you or any one. I trust, sir, that you will believe me.”
The lad took off his cap and bowed. His face was now revealed more clearly, and it was a fine one, splendidly molded, intellectual, and with noble blue eyes. After all, despite the mud and stains, he made a graceful figure as he stood there, so obviously confident of himself, but respectful.
The spark leaped again from the eyes of Colonel Woodville, and, remembering something, there was a slight warmth about the heart which lately had been so cold and bitter.
“I do not blame you,” he said. “A lad, one in his formative years, cannot be too careful about his associates. Doubtless you were justified in taking advantage of the open door. But now that you are here may I ask you what you purpose next to do?”