"Did you?" said he. "But I did not see you. Where was that?"
"At Malory, near Cardyllion, after the wreck of the Conway Castle, when Mr. Marston was there."
"Yes, so he was," said the old gentleman; "but I did not know that any of Mr. Ware's family were at home at the time. You may have seen me, but I did not see you—or, if I did, you made no impression upon me."
This was one of my good friend's unconscious compliments which often made me smile.
"And what became of that Mr. Marston?" I asked. "He had a wonderful escape!"
"So he had—he went abroad."
"And is he still abroad?"
"About six weeks ago he left England again; he was here only for a flying visit of two or three months. It would be wise, I think, if he never returned. I think he has definitely settled now, far away from this country, and I don't think we are likely to see his face again. You're not keeping her near enough to the wind."
I was curious to learn more about this Mr. Marston, of whom Mr. Carmel and Laura Grey—each judging him, no doubt, from totally different facts, and from points of view so dissimilar—had expressed such singularly ill opinions.
"You know Mr. Marston pretty well, do you?" I asked.