Dan meditated a few moments before replying. He was not prepared to communicate his suspicions to Jarner until he knew more about him. Unlike the confiding country divine, this haunter of cities was more cautious in unfolding himself to a new acquaintance. "I cannot answer your question at present, Mr. Jarner," he said at length, with some hesitancy; "but if you will do me the honour to visit my camp, I will explain myself, and ask your opinion on a certain matter." "Does it concern Meg?" asked Jarner, rendered serious by this speech. "Yes; it concerns Meg and--myself. No! pray don't ask me if I am in love with her. To-morrow I will tell you all." "At what hour shall I come?" "Say at noon. I am generally alone at that hour." Jarner accepted the invitation, and shook hands with his strange guest. Politeness forbade him to ask questions, else he might have done so. The whole tone of Dan's conversation was so mysterious that the simple gentleman was greatly puzzled and disturbed. CHAPTER XI. FARBIS COURT. The house built on the side of the hill was a dreary-looking place, standing in a park of no very great extent. Gloomy pine-woods rose above it, and the grounds appertaining to the mansion stretched below in a gentle slope towards the village. So sheltered was the park from sea-winds by reason of the depression of the ground, that therein flourished quite a forest in wild luxuriance. Oak, and sycamore, and beech, and elm, all lifted their giant boughs in the genial atmosphere, and formed a wood round the Court similar to that said to have environed the palace of the Sleeping Beauty. It was almost as impenetrable, and quite as wild in growth. Here the fecundation of Nature went on incessantly, unrestrained by the hand of man. Nothing was kept within bounds; so, untended and untouched, the forest--for, though of limited extent, it could be called by no other name--relapsed into its wild state. The trees crowded so thickly together that they almost excluded the sunlight. Parasites grew unchecked round the aged boles; wan grasses, uncoloured by the sun, sprang high and thick; while groves of saplings made the wood well-nigh impassable. Wild creatures dwelt in the undergrowth, undisturbed by sportsman or poacher, and overhead flocks of birds made the forest musical from sunrise to sunset. Here and there spread stagnant pools of water, choked with weeds, and almost hidden by broad-leaved lilies. And there were winding paths, overgrown with moss and grass, blocked by fallen tree-trunks, and barred to the most resolute pioneer by brushwood and tangled briars. Desolation ruled supreme throughout the deserted domain.