not wishing to cause so much trouble.

'I really think we could walk home very well; don't you, Mary?' she
said; and I declared myself quite equal to the walk.

'It would be impossible for you to get back to Thornleigh before
dark,' the gentleman remonstrated. 'I shall be quite offended if you
refuse the use of my dog-cart, and insist on getting wet feet. I
daresay your feet are wet as it is, by the bye.'

We assured him of the thickness of our boots, and gave our shawls to
Mrs. Mills the old housekeeper, who carried them off to be dried in
the kitchen, and promised to convey the order about the dog-cart to
the stables immediately.

I had time now to look at our new acquaintance, who was standing
with his shoulders against one angle of the high oak mantelpiece,
watching the rain beating against a window opposite to him. I had no
difficulty in recognising the original of that portrait which
Augusta Darrell had looked at so strangely. He was much older than
when the portrait had been taken--ten years at the least, I thought.
In the picture he looked little more than twenty, and I should have
guessed him now to be on the wrong side of thirty.

He was handsome still, but the dark powerful face had a sort of
rugged look, the heavy eyebrows overshadowed the sombre black eyes,
a thick fierce-looking moustache shrouded the mouth, but could not
quite conceal an expression, half cynical, half melancholy, that
lurked about the lowered corners of the full firm lips. He looked
like a man whose past life held some sad or sinful history.