But little was said during all this time. Words were useless. Silence formed the best communion for them. He took her hand at parting. She spoke not a word; his lips moved, but no audible sound escaped. Yet in their eyes as they fastened themselves on one another in an intense gaze there was read all that unutterable passion of love, of longing, and of sorrow that each felt. The carriage drove off. Brandon watched it. “Now farewell. Love, forever,” he murmured, “and welcome Vengeance!” CHAPTER XVIII. INQUIRIES. So many years had elapsed since Brandon had last been in the village which bore the family name that he had no fear of being recognized. He had been a boy then, he was now a man. His features had passed from a transition state into their maturer form, and a thick beard and mustache, the growth of the long voyage, covered the lower part of the face like a mask. His nose which, when he left, had a boyish roundness of outline, had since become refined and chiseled into the straight, thin Grecian type. His eyes alone remained the same, yet the expression had grown different, even as the soul that looked forth through them had been changed by experience and by suffering. He gave himself out at the inn as an American merchant, and went out to begin his inquiries. Tearing two buttons off his coat, he entered the shop of the village tailor. “Good-morning,” said he, civilly. “Good-morning, Sir; fine morning, Sir,” answered the tailor, volubly. He was a little man, with a cast in his eye, and on looking at Brandon he had to put his head on one side, which he did with a quick, odd gesture. “There are two buttons off my coat, and I want to know if you can repair it for me?” “Certainly, Sir; certainly. Take off your coat, Sir, and sit down.” “The buttons,” said Brandon, “are a little odd; but if you have not got any exactly like them, any thing similar will do.” “Oh, I think we’ll fit you out, Sir. I think we’ll fit you out,” rejoined the tailor, briskly. He bustled about among his boxes and drawers, pulled out a large number of articles, and finally began to select the buttons which were nearest like those on the coat. “This is a fine little village,” said Brandon, carelessly. “Yes, Sir; that’s a fact, Sir; that’s just what every body says, Sir.” “What old Hall is that which I saw just outside the village?” “Ah, Sir, that old Hall is the very best in the whole county. It is Brandon Hall, Sir.” “Brandon Hall?” “Yes, Sir.” “I suppose this village takes the name from the Hall--or is it the Hall that is named after the village?” “Well, neither, Sir. Both of them were named after the Brandon family.” “Is it an old family? It must be, of course.” “The oldest in the county, Sir.” “I wonder if Mr. Brandon would let a stranger go through his grounds? There is a hill back of the house that I should like to see.” “Mr. Brandon!” exclaimed the tailor, shaking his head; “Mr. Brandon! There ain’t no Mr. Brandon now!” “How is that?”