‘When you get there, you bear away smart to nor’-west, and you’ll come straight as a line to the Lodge.’
‘How the deuce am I to know which is north-west in a strange place, with no sun to tell me?’
‘What, not know nor-west? Well, I should think a boy could never live and grow up to be a man without knowing the four quarters. I knowed ’em when I was a mossel of a chiel. We be no great scholars here, that’s true, but there isn’t a Tom-rig or Jack-straw in these parts that don’t know where they lie as well as I. Now I’ve lived, man and boy, these eight-and-sixty years, and never met a man in my life afore who hadn’t learnt such a common thing as the four quarters.’
Christopher parted from his companion and soon reached a stile, clambering over which he entered a park. Here he threaded his way, and rounding a clump of aged trees the young man came in view of a light and elegant country-house in the half-timbered Gothic style of the late revival, apparently only a few years old. Surprised at finding himself so near, Christopher’s heart fluttered unmanageably till he had taken an abstract view of his position, and, in impatience at his want of nerve, adopted a sombre train of reasoning to convince himself that, far from indulgence in the passion of love bringing bliss, it was a folly, leading to grief and disquiet—certainly one which would do him no good. Cooled down by this, he stepped into the drive and went up to the house.
‘Is Mrs. Petherwin at home?’ he said modestly.
‘Who did you say, sir?’
He repeated the name.
‘Don’t know the person.’
‘The lady may be a visitor—I call on business.’
‘She is not visiting in this house, sir.’