He had thought once of writing to say that he was coming, but upon second thoughts, he decided not to do so. He would keep his promise to his father to the very letter; he had implored him not to write, and he would therefore refrain from doing so, and would not even prepare them in this way for the sad news which he was bringing to them. He could easily find some place in which to stay the night, and would return to Sheffield early the following morning.
The Captain was alone the first part of the way, but at Penrith a young man jumped into the carriage and took the seat opposite to him. He was short and rather thin, with dark hair, brown eyes, and a weak mouth. There was nothing specially taking in his appearance, and yet he had an extremely good-natured face, which made the Captain imagine that, though his companion might not have a superabundance of brain power, yet at the same time he was well stored with easy good-humour.
The newcomer put his bag on the rack, lighted a cigar, and turned over the leaves of a magazine. But he did not seem much inclined for reading, and soon closed his book and began to talk, opening the conversation, as Englishmen always do, with a remark on the weather.
"Horrid cold day," he said, with a slight drawl, which, however, the Captain soon discovered was a sign of company manners on his part, and which he dropped entirely when they became better acquainted.
"Yes, I think it's the coldest day this winter," he answered; "it feels to me like snow."
"Have some of my rug," said the newcomer. "It's only lying on the ground."
"Thank you, I shall only be too glad; I forgot to bring mine, and the foot-warmer is quite cold now."
"Have you come far?"
"Well, a good way—from Sheffield. I'm going to a little place somewhere near Keswick. Do you know Keswick?"
"Of course I do; I'm going there myself."