"Show the gentleman up here; tell him I shall be happy to see him," he said to the waiter. Then, as the man closed the door and departed, he turned and paced the floor with slow, meditative step.
"It may be a good Providence that brings us together so unexpectedly just at this time," he said to himself. "I should never have expected dishonorable conduct from my old chum Charlie Landreth, and I'll give him the benefit of the doubt as long as I can. Ah, God grant I may be able to set this matter right for poor Mildred!"
Steps approached, the door opened, and the two stood face to face.
"Horace! you have not forgotten me?" The voice, the grasp of the hand, the beaming countenance, all spoke such sincere pleasure, such warmth of friendship, that Mr. Dinsmore's doubts vanished; that was not the face of a false, cold-hearted villain. He returned the greeting as cordially as it was given.
"Forgotten you, Charlie? No, indeed! and I'm particularly glad that you have made yourself known to-night; for to-morrow I shall be on my way south again."
"Ah, going back to the old neighborhood where we were boys together," and Charlie heaved a sigh to the memory of the days of auld lang syne, as he accepted a mute invitation to be seated. "Have you been long absent?" he asked.
"For several months. I am lately returned from Indiana, where I have been visiting my cousins the Keiths."
As he pronounced the name Mr. Dinsmore looked keenly at his companion.
Landreth flushed hotly and his look was both eager and pained as he responded, with a little hesitation in his speech. "Ah! and were they—all well?"
"Yes, thank you, and prospering. One of the girls—there are five in all—is married."