ten years ago--a tall, wiry, raw youth; NOW, as I rose from my
seat and turned towards the library door, I saw a fine-looking
and powerful man, light-complexioned, well-made, and of athletic
proportions; the first glance made me aware of an air of
promptitude and sharpness, shown as well in his movements as in
his port, his eye, and the general expression of his face. He
greeted me with brevity, and, in the moment of shaking hands,
scanned me from head to foot; he took his seat in the morocco
covered arm-chair, and motioned me to another sent.

"'I expected you would have called at the counting-house in the
Close,' said he; and his voice, I noticed, had an abrupt accent,
probably habitual to him; he spoke also with a guttural northern
tone, which sounded harsh in my ears, accustomed to the silvery
utterance of the South.

"'The landlord of the inn, where the coach stopped, directed me
here,' said I. 'I doubted at first the accuracy of his
information, not being aware that you had such a residence as
this.'

"'Oh, it is all right!' he replied, 'only I was kept half an hour
behind time, waiting for you--that is all. I thought you must
be coming by the eight o'clock coach.'

"I expressed regret that he had had to wait; he made no answer,
but stirred the fire, as if to cover a movement of impatience;
then he scanned me again.

"I felt an inward satisfaction that I had not, in the first