At last I could perceive that something was settled; for the discussions between Mr. Blount and Sir Harry seemed to have lost the character of debate and remonstrance, and to have become more like a gloomy confidence and consultation between them. I can only speak of what I may call the external appearance of these conversations, for I was not permitted to hear one word of their substance. In a little while Sir Harry went away again. This time his journey, I afterwards learned, was to one of the quietest little towns in North Wales, where his chaise drew up at the Bull Inn. The tall northern baronet got out of the chaise, and strode to the bar of that rural hostelry. "Is there a gentleman named Marston staying here?" he asked of the plump elderly lady who sat within the bow-window of the bar. "Yes, sir, Mr. Marston, Number Seven, up one pair of stairs." "Upstairs now?" asked Sir Harry. "He'll be gone out to take his walk, sir, by this time," answered the lady. "Can I talk to you for a few minutes, anywhere, madam, in private?" asked Sir Harry. The old lady looked at him, a little surprised. "Yes, sir," she said. "Is it anything very particular, please?" "Yes, ma'am, very particular," answered the baronet. She called to her handmaid, and installed her quickly in her seat, and so led the baronet to an occupied room on the ground-floor. Sir Harry closed the door, and told her who he was. The landlady recognised his baronetage with a little courtesy. "I'm a relation of Mr. Marston's, and I've come down here to make an inquiry; I want to know whether he has been leading an orderly, quiet life since he came to your house." "No one more so, please, sir; a very nice regular gentleman, and goes to church every Sunday he's been here, and that is true. We have no complaint to make of him, please, sir; and he has paid his bill twice since he came here." The woman looked honest, with frank, round eyes. "Thank you, ma'am," said Sir Harry; "that will do." An hour later it was twilight, and Mr. Marston, on entering his sitting-room after his walk, saw the baronet, who got up from his chair before the fire as he came in. The young man instantly took off his hat, and stood near the door, the very image of humility. Sir Harry did not advance, or offer him his hand; he gave him a nod. Nothing could be colder than this reception. "So, Richard, you have returned to England, as you have done most other things, without consulting me," said the cold, deep voice of Sir Harry. "I've acted rashly sir, I fear. I acted on an impulse. I could not resist it. It was only twelve hours before the ship left New York when the thought struck me. I ought to have waited, I ought to have thought it over. It seemed to me my only chance, and I'm afraid it has but sunk me lower in your esteem." "It is clear you should have asked my leave first, all things considered," said Sir Harry, in the same tone. The young man bowed his head.