smile, "You have done me a great kindness, my friend. Eugene Aram was an
early acquaintance of mine. We have not met for many years. I never
guessed that he lived in these parts."

And then, directed, in answer to his inquiries, to Aram's dwelling, a
lonely grey house in the middle of a broad plain, the traveller went his
way.


_II.--The Squire's Guest_


The man the stranger went to seek was one who perhaps might have
numbered some five-and-thirty years, but at a hasty glance would have
seemed considerably younger. His frame was tall, slender, but well-knit
and fair proportioned; his cheek was pale, but with thought; his hair
was long, and of a rich, deep brown; his brow was unfurrowed; his face
was one that a physiognomist would have loved to look upon, so much did
it speak of both the refinement and the dignity of intellect.

Eugene Aram had been now about two years settled in his present retreat,
with an elderly dame as housekeeper. From almost every college in Europe
came visitors to his humble dwelling, and willingly he imparted to
others any benefit derived from his lonely researches. But he proffered
no hospitality, and shrank from all offers of friendship. Yet, unsocial
as he was, everyone loved him. The peasant threw kindly pity into his
respectful greeting. Even that terror of the village, Mother Darkmans,
saved her bitterest gibes for others; and the village maiden, as she
curtseyed by him, stole a glance at his handsome but melancholy
countenance, and told her sweetheart she was certain the poor scholar