"Our ways part here," said the old man.
"Will you not keep on to the house? Your visits always give pleasure," said Mr. Markland.
"No—not at this time. I have some matters at home requiring present attention."
They stood and looked into each other's faces for a few moments, as if both had something yet in their minds unsaid, but not yet in a shape for utterance—then separated with a simple "Good-by."
CHAPTER XIII.
THIS new testimony in regard to the presence of Mr. Lyon in the neighbourhood, at a time when he was believed to be hundreds of miles away, and still receding as rapidly as swift car and steamer could bear him, might well disturb, profoundly, the spirit of Mr. Markland. What could it mean? How vainly he asked himself this question. He was walking onward, with his eyes upon the ground, when approaching feet made him aware of the proximity of some one. Looking up, he saw a man coming down the road from his house, and only a few rods distant from him.
"Mr. Lyon, now!" he exclaimed, in a low, agitated voice. "What does this mean?" he added, as his mind grew bewildered, and his footsteps were stayed.
Another moment, and he saw that he had erred in regard to the man's identity. It wars not Mr. Lyon, but a stranger. Advancing again, they met, and the stranger, pausing, said:
"Mr. Markland, I believe?"