He stepped from the car one June afternoon, elegantly habited in the latest Parisian style of coat, and vest, and hat, with a band of crape around the latter, and a grieved look on his handsome face, as if he were thinking of the dear little girl, dead so far away, and whose fortune he had come to take. With him was a sharp, shrewd-looking man, with round, bright eyes, which saw everything at a glance, and a decidedly foreign accent. To him the doctor always spoke in German, and in this language the two talked together for a few moments after alighting upon the platform in Rothsay. Evidently they were not expected, for no one was there to meet them, but the doctor inquired for the best hotel, and making his way thither registered his own name and that of his friend, “Walter Klyne, Esq., New York City.” Then, engaging two of the best rooms in the house, and ordering dinner at seven o’clock, he started out to reconnoiter, going first to Everard’s office and greatly astonishing the young man, who did not know that he had yet landed in New York. It might be thought, perhaps, that the sight of him, with his band of crape upon his hat, and the peculiar air of sadness he managed to infuse into his voice and manner, would awaken in Everard a feeling of sympathy and kindness for one in whose sorrow he had so large a part, but it produced just the contrary effect, and though he went forward with offered hand to meet him, there swept over him a sensation of distrust, and aversion, and dread,—a feeling of horror for which he could not account, any more than he could explain the sudden chill which crept through his veins, as if Rossie’s cold, dead hands were touching his, and Rossie’s white, still face pressed against his own. Dr. Matthewson was very polite and very much afraid of wounding Everard’s feelings. He was sorry not to find Mr. Russell there, he said, as he wished to talk a little about business, and would like to go over the Forrest House, which he believed was shut up. Everard gave him the keys, and added, hurriedly: “You will have no trouble whatever, as I have no intention to dispute your right to the property. It was lawfully Rossie’s, and, therefore, yours now.” It was the first time Rossie had been mentioned, and Everard felt as if his heart were bursting as he pronounced the name, while the doctor’s lip quivered, and he shut his eyes tight to keep the tears back. “Thanks,” he said, as he took the offered keys. “We will speak of business by and by, when I can trust myself to tell you more fully what your sister’s wishes were. Now, I only wish to see the house where she used to live. I will return the keys on my way back to the hotel. I wish you good evening, sir.”