'He's not a man for country quarters! he'll soon be back in town, or to
Brighton,' I said.

'If _he_ doesn't, _I_ will. That's all.'

Just to get him off this unpleasant groove with a little jolt, I said--

'By-the-bye, Wylder, you know the pictures here; who is the tall man,
with the long pale face, and wild phosphoric eyes? I was always afraid of
him; in a long peruke, and dark red velvet coat, facing the hall-door. I
had a horrid dream about him last night.'

'That? Oh, I know--that's Lorne Brandon. He was one of our family devils,
he was. A devil in a family now and then is not such a bad thing, when
there's work for him.' (All the time he was talking to me his angry
little eyes were following Lake.) 'They say he killed his son, a
blackguard, who was found shot, with his face in the tarn in the park. He
was going to marry the gamekeeper's daughter, it was thought, and he and
the old boy, who was for high blood, and all that, were at loggerheads
about it. It was not proved, only thought likely, which showed what a
nice character he was; but he might have done worse. I suppose Miss
Partridge would have had a precious lot of babbies; and who knows where
the estate would have been by this time.'

'I believe, Charlie,' he recommenced suddenly, 'there is not such an
unnatural family on record as ours; is there? Ha, ha, ha! It's well to be
distinguished in any line. I forget all the other good things he did; but
he ended by shooting himself through the head in his bed-room, and that
was not the worst thing ever he did.'