She was much surprised one day to see him come on foot without attendants. He was not a man to show his thoughts in his face, which was hard and wooden, but his eyes expressed his feelings when the rest of his face was under control--that is, when he did not screw down the lids and conceal them. Accordingly Magdalen could not gather from her brother's countenance the purport of his visit, though she scrutinised it curiously. He seated himself in one of her chairs, near the table, and laid his stick across his knees; Magdalen waited with the deference she usually paid him till he began the conversation; but he also, with unwonted hesitation, deferred his communication to allow her to open the ball. The silence became irksome to her, and she was the first to interrupt it, and then with the remark that she was surprised to see him arrive alone, and on foot. "One does not require to have all the town know I am here, and know how many minutes I remain," said he rudely, in reply. Then again silence fell on both. After another painful pause, Magdalen began: "Really, brother, I should like to know for what reason you have come to do me the honour, and afford me the _pleasure_ of your company. The white witch has a crystal into which he looks, and in which he reads what he desires to know; but you veil your eyes, and I cannot discover, or attempt to discover, thence what your purport might be in coming hither." Old Cleverdon fidgeted in his chair, dropped his stick, picked it up again, and blurted forth: "I suppose you get that disobedient son of mine tumbling in here every few days." "Indeed, I do not, brother. Do you suppose that I countenance such rebellious conduct?" "I did not know. I considered, as he might not show his face in Hall, that he came here for news about the place and me." "I do not deny that I have seen him; but only rarely. He never did affect my company greatly, and I cannot say that he visits me more frequently since his marriage than he did before." "I am glad to hear it. How is he getting on in his pigstye." "I have not been there to see. He and she are content with it for a while, and make no doubt that in the end you will forgive them, and be the best of fathers." "Do they?" exclaimed the Squire, with a harsh laugh and a flame on his cheek. "Do they think that I have a head of dough, to be moulded into what shape they list?" He struck the table with his stick, so as to startle his sister and make her jump in her chair. "Good heavens, brother! How excitable you are," said Magdalen; "and I dare be bound you do not know that Mistress Penwarne is taken into the Rectory at Peter Tavy, as housekeeper to your most dutiful and respectful nephew Luke--an ancient harridan who, having set her daughter against you, now does her utmost to make wildfire between your son and you."