One morning at breakfast, among the letters laid beside Sir Harry was one, on opening which his face darkened suddenly, and an angry light glowed in his deep-set eyes. He rapped his knuckles on the table, he stood up and muttered, sat down again in a little while, and once more looked into the letter. He read it through this time; and then turning to Lemuel Blount, who had been staring at him in silence, as it seemed to me knowing very well what the subject of the letter must be: "Look at that," said the Baronet, whisking the letter across the table to Mr. Blount, "I don't understand him--I never did." Mr. Blount took the letter to the window and read it thoughtfully. "Come along," said the Baronet, rising, and beckoning him with his finger, "I'll give him an answer." Sir Harry, with these words, strode out of the room, followed by Mr. Blount; and I was left alone to my vain conjectures. It was a serene and sunny day; the air, as in late autumn it always is, though the sun has not lost its power, was a little sharp. Some hours later, I and my old comrade, Mr. Blount, had taken to the water. A boatman sat in the bow. I held the tiller, abandoned to me by my companion, in right of my admitted superiority in steering, an art which I had learned on the estuary at Cardyllion. Mr. Blount was not so talkative as usual. I said to him at last: "Do you know, Mr. Blount, I once saw you, before I met you here." "Did you?" said he. "But I did not see you. Where was that?" "At Malory, near Cardyllion, after the wreck of the Conway Castle, when Mr. Marston was there." "Yes, so he was," said the old gentleman; "but I did not know that any of Mr. Ware's family were at home at the time. You may have seen me, but I did not see you--or, if I did, you made no impression upon me." This was one of my good friend's unconscious compliments which often made me smile. "And what became of that Mr. Marston?" I asked. "He had a wonderful escape!" "So he had--he went abroad." "And is he still abroad?" "About six weeks ago he left England again; he was here only for a flying visit of two or three months. It would be wise, I think, if he never returned. I think he has definitely settled now, far away from this country, and I don't think we are likely to see his face again. You're not keeping her near enough to the wind." I was curious to learn more about this Mr. Marston, of whom Mr. Carmel and Laura Grey--each judging him, no doubt, from totally different facts, and from points of view so dissimilar--had expressed such singularly ill opinions. "You know Mr. Marston pretty well, do you?" I asked. "Yes, very well; I have been trying to do him a service," answered Mr. Blount. "See, see, there--see--those can't be wild ducks? Blessed are the peace-makers. I wish I could, and I think I may. Now, I think you may put her about, eh?" I did as he advised.