"Well, sir--though I'm sure you are an Englishman person--and a rare good-looking one too--there's a tone in your voice that sounds foreign to me."
"I am English," he replied: "but I have lived very much abroad, in France and Italy and other countries: have roamed about from place to place. No doubt my accent has suffered. We can't be a vagabond, you see, madam, without betraying it."
Mrs. Bent shook her head at the epithet, which he spoke-with a laugh: few persons, to judge by looks, were less of a vagabond than he. John came in with the lemonade sparkling in a glass.
"Ah, that's good," said the traveller drinking it at a draught. "If your viands and wines generally are as good as that, Mr. Bent, your guests must be fortunate. I should like to call and see Madame Guise," he added rising. "I suppose I may venture to do so?"
"Why not, sir?"
"Are the people she is with dragons?" he asked, in his half laughing and wholly fascinating way. "Will they eat me up, think you? Some families do not admit visitors to their governess."
"You may call, and welcome, sir," said Mrs. Bent. "The family are of note hereabout, great gentlefolks--the Castlemaines. Madame Guise is made as comfortable there as if it were her own house and home."
"I'll venture then," said the stranger, taking his hat and umbrella. "Perhaps you will be good enough to direct the road to me."
John Bent took him out at the front door, and pointed out to him the way over the fields--which were far pleasanter and somewhat nearer than the road way: and Mr. North was soon at the gate of Greylands' Rest. Mrs. Castlemaine was seated under a shady clump of trees, doing some wool work. He raised his hat and bowed to her as he passed, but continued his way to the door. Miles opened it and asked his pleasure.
"I am told that Madame Guise lives here. May I be permitted to see her?"