The sun, shining right in Mr. George North's eyes, had somewhat obscured his view outwards; but as the gentleman came in and stood upright in the coffee-room, he saw a tall stately man with a remarkably handsome face. While gazing at the face, a slight emotion came suddenly into his own. "What a likeness!" he inwardly murmured. "Can it be one of them?"
"How is Squire Dobie, Hobbs?" demanded Mr. Castlemaine of the old waiter--for the new-comer was the Master of Greylands. "Any better to-day?"
"Yes, sir; the doctor thinks there's a slight improvement. He has had a fairly good night."
"That's well. Is Mr. Atherly expected in to-day, do you know?"
"No, I don't, sir. Perhaps master knows. I'll inquire."
While the waiter was gone on this errand, Mr. Castlemaine strolled to the unoccupied window, and looked out on his waiting horses. Fine animals, somewhat restive this morning, and the pride of Mr. Castlemaine's stables. He glanced at the stranger, sitting at the not yet cleared breakfast table, and was taken at once with his bright face and looks. Mr. George North was then reading the newspaper. Hobbs did not return, and Mr. Castlemaine stamped a little with one foot as though he were impatient. A sudden thought struck the young man: he rose, and held out the newspaper.
"I beg your pardon, sir; I am perhaps, keeping this from you."
"Not at all, thank you," said Mr. Castlemaine.
"I am a stranger; therefore this local news cannot interest me," persisted Mr. George North, fancying courtesy alone might have prompted the refusal. "It is of no moment whether I read the gazette or not."
"I have already seen it: I am obliged to you all the same," replied Mr. Castlemaine in his pleasantest manner, with not a shade of hauteur about it. "Are you staying here?"