heard the sound of wheels on the frosty ground--the shrill bell at the
porch-door.




CHAPTER V.

THE VAGABOND RECEIVED IN THE MANOR-HOUSE AT FAWLEY.

Very lamely, very feebly, declining Lionel's arm, and leaning heavily on
his crutch-stick, Waife crossed the threshold of the Manor-house. George
sprang forward to welcome him. The old man looked on the preacher's face
with a kind of wandering uncertainty in his eye, and George saw that his
cheek was very much flushed. He limped on through the hall, still
leaning on his staff, George and Lionel at either side. A pace or two,
and there stood Darrell! Did he, the host, not spring forward to offer
an arm, to extend a hand? No; such greeting in Darrell would have been
but vulgar courtesy. As the old man's eye rested on him, the superb
gentleman bowed low--bowed as we bow to kings!

They entered the library. Darrell made a sign to George and Lionel.
They understood the sign, and left visitor and host alone.

Lionel drew George into the quaint old dining-hall. "I am very uneasy
about our dear friend," he said, in agitated accents. "I fear that I
have had too little consideration for his years and his sensitive nature,
and that, what with the excitement of the conversation that passed
between us and the fatigue of the journey, his nerves have broken down.
We were not half-way on the road, and as we had the railway-carriage to