But this his guest politely but firmly declined doing. Mr. Ellerslie was careful not to press him farther than good breeding sanctioned, which, however, did not hinder him from mixing a stiff and steaming tumbler for himself. Having tasted it and apparently found it to his liking, he went back to his seat by the fire.
"You were good enough just now, Mr. Nevill, to express a hope that you and I might some day meet again. Such a meeting, although not beyond the bounds of possibility--as, indeed, in this world, what is?--hardly comes within the range of likelihood. You are just on the point of stepping into the arena--the struggle, the turmoil, the dust, the elation of victory or, it may be, the bitterness of defeat, lie still before you; while for me it is all over. I have come out of the fight with reversed arms, I have left the sweating crowd and its plaudits--plaudits never showered upon me!--behind me forever. Here, in this rude hermitage--somewhat bleak, of a truth, in winter time--I hope to pass the remainder of my days, as Mr. Pope so aptly expresses, it, 'the world forgetting, by the world forgot.' Therefore, my dear Mr. Nevill, the chances are that after to-night you and I are hardly likely to meet again. To you belong the golden possibilities of the future, to me nothing but memories."
He stirred his grog, took a good pull at it, and then went on with his monologue:--
"Rockmount has now been my home for a couple of years, and I have no desire to leave it. Here I live in the utmost seclusion with my books and a few scientific instruments. An act of the blackest treachery drove me from the world, a ruined man, bankrupt in hope, in friendship, in means, with not one illusion left of all those with which----but I weary you with my egotistic maunderings. Besides, the hour is late--I cannot expect you to be such a night-owl as I am--and doubtless you are hungering for your bed."
Nevill protested, a little mendaciously, that he was not at all tired. Tired he was, but not sleepy. He would willingly have sat out the rest of the night with his singular host.
Presently Mr. Ellerslie, having finished the remainder of his grog, said, "By the way, towards which point of the compass are you desirous of bending your steps in the morning?"
"If I could only find my way to the Whinbarrow road, I should know where I was."
"One of my fellows shall go with you and not leave you till he has put you into it. You have but to name your own hour for breakfast, and Mrs. Dobson will have it ready for you."
He rose, as intimating that the moment for retiring had come. A light was burning in the entrance-hall, and two bed-candles had been placed in readiness, one of which Mr. Ellerslie proceeded to light.
At the foot of the stairs he held out his hand. It was a long, lean, sinewy hand, Nevill could not help noticing, and not at all like that of a man on whom age had in other respects set its unmistakable seal.