"I have had this room got ready as if for myself, sir," observed Markland; "but as I have just told you, I mean to sleep in a chair below stairs. I wish you a good-night, sir. I'll come to you in the morning."
So saying, he quitted the room, and Atherton shortly afterwards sought his couch, and slept very soundly.
Next morning, the old butler visited him before he had begun to dress, and opening the drawers of a wardrobe that stood in the room, took out two or three handsome suits of clothes—somewhat old-fashioned, inasmuch as they belonged to the period of George the First, but still attire that could be worn.
"These habiliments belonged to your father, Sir Oswald," said Markland; "and as you are about his size, I am sure they will fit you."
"But are they not out of fashion, Markland?" cried Atherton. "People will stare at me if I appear in a costume of five-and-twenty years ago."
"Well, perhaps they might," rejoined the butler; "but there can be no objection to this dark riding-dress."
"No, that will do very well," said Atherton, in an approving tone, after he had examined it.
"You will find plenty of linen in this drawer—laced shirts, solitaires, cravats, silk stockings," continued the butler; "and in that cupboard there are three or four pairs of jack-boots, with as many cocked-hats."
"Bravo!" exclaimed Atherton. "You have quite set me up, Markland. But now leave me for a short time, that I may try the effect of this riding-dress."
The butler then withdrew, but returned in about half an hour with a pot of chocolate and some slices of toast on a tray.