The landlord brought the ale, handing it up on a waiter; somewhat to his own discomfort, for the horse was prancing and rearing. Harry Castlemaine drank it; and with a general nod, an intimation that he should return on the morrow, and a wave of the hand to his cousin, he rode away.
Anthony went round the corner of the house to look after him. Not being anything great in horsemanship himself, he admired those who were. He admired also the tall, fine form, the handsome face, and the free, frank bearing of Harry Castlemaine; and a hope in that moment arose in his heart that they might become good friends if he remained in England. He stood and watched him up the road until its bending hid him from view. Harry's route lay past the Grey Nunnery, past the coastguard station higher up, and so onwards. Newerton was a town of some importance, at about ten miles distance.
The remaining events of the evening, so far as they concerned Anthony Castlemaine, were destined to assume importance and to be discussed for days and weeks afterwards. He took his dinner at six, John Bent waiting on him as usual; afterwards, he sat alone for an hour or two in deep thought. At least, Mrs. Bent, coming in to take away his coffee-cup, assumed him to be deep in thought as he did not speak to her, an unusual thing. He sat between the table and the fire, his elbow resting on the former and his fingers pressing his right temple. The landlady had never seen him so still, or look so solemn; there was a cloud as of some dread care upon his face--she declared so to the world afterwards. Could it have been that in those, the last few hours of his life on earth, a foreshadowing of the dreadful fate about to overtake him was presented in some vague manner to his mind? It might have been so.
About nine o'clock he suddenly asked the landlord to fetch down his inkstand and paper-case, which he had left in his bedroom; and then he wrote a letter, sealed it as he had the one in the afternoon, and put on it the same address. By-and-by, John Bent came in again to look to the fire.
"I have made up my mind to get another interview with Mr. Castlemaine before I apply for legal advice," spoke Anthony.
"Bless me!" exclaimed John Bent, for the words surprised him.
"Yes. I have been thinking it well over from beginning to end; and I see that I ought to give my uncle James one more opportunity to settle it amicably, before bringing the dispute openly before the world, and causing a scandal. He was in a passion this afternoon and perhaps did not quite understand me: when he shall have had time to reflect he may be more reasonable."
John Bent shook his head. In his own mind he did not believe that fifty fresh appeals would have any effect on Mr. Castlemaine.
"I say this to myself," went on Anthony: "Whether Greylands' Rest is his by right or not, he is in possession of it. Nobody can deny that. And I have tried to put myself in imagination in his place, and I see how cruel a blow it would seem if a stranger came to seek to deprive me of it. I might be as angry as he is."
"Then, sir, do you intend to leave him in possession of it?" returned the landlord.