“Sir,” says he, looking into my face very hard, “your voice seems known to me, but your features I can’t recall. You will pardon me if I should know you.” “You may well be pardoned, sir,” says I, “for twenty years’ absence is like to change men beyond recognition.” “Twenty years?” said he. “Tom, come hither. Sir, pardon my rudeness,” and he took the lantern from the servant’s hand and held it up so as the light thereof fell upon my face. “Why, as I live, ’tis Mr Carlyon! Welcome home, sir; glad I am to be the first to greet your honour in this place.” “Sure ’tis a happy omen, sir,” says I, “that the first person to greet me should be so tried and faithful a friend as yourself. Pray, how do Mrs Sternhold and your daughters find ’emselves? I trust they are all three in good health?” “The best of health, sir, I thank you,” said Mr Sternhold, for he it was. “My daughter Sisley is married to Frank Packworth, that your honour was wont to fight with at the Grammar School, but is now my partner, and a very worthy man. Diony dwells still with her mother and me, and is the very light of our eyes.” “I am rejoiced to hear your good news, sir,” says I. “Pray make my most respectful compliments to the gentlewomen, and assure ’em that I shall find myself impatient until I may be able to renew my acquaintance with ’em.” “You are very good, sir,” says Mr Sternhold. “May we hope that you are now returned to abide among us as did your honoured father?” “That is my design,” said I, “though I don’t dare hope to approach my father’s virtues. Will it be surprising to you, sir, to learn that after all my wanderings I am returned to my port of departure, determined to marry my cousin and settle down in my place here?” “I account, sir, that the question of your honour’s marriage hangs in some slight degree upon Mrs Brandon’s inclinations?” says he, and seemed to hint at something, though what I could not tell. “Oh, without doubt, sir,” says I, carelessly enough.