“I don’t know,” I said. “Duke----” and I held out a yearning hand to him. At that he struck at me savagely and, running crookedly into the night, was lost in the rainy darkness. CHAPTER XXX. I GO HOME. So much of strange incident had crowded with action the long years of my life in London, that, as I walked from the station down into the old cathedral town, a feeling of wonder was on me that the hand of time had dealt so gently with the landmarks of my youth. Here were the same old gates and churches and houses I had known, unaltered unless for an additional film of the fragrant lichen of age. The very ruins of the ancient castle and palace were stone by stone such as I remembered them. There was frost in the air, too; so that sometimes, as I moved dreamily onward, a sense as if all that gap of vivid life were a vanished vision and unreality moved strongly in me. Then it seemed that presently I should saunter into the old mill to find my father and Zyp and Jason sitting down as usual to the midday meal. My appearance was so changed that none of all who would formerly have somewhat sourly acknowledged my passing with a nod now recognized me. Suddenly I caught sight of Dr. Crackenthorpe, moving on in front of me in company with another man. The doctor was no more altered than his surroundings, judged at least by his back view. This presented the same long rusty coat of a chocolate color--relic of a bygone generation, I always thought--cut after a slightly sporting fashion, which he wore in all my memory of him throughout the winter; half-Wellington boots, into which the ends of his trousers were tucked, and a flat-topped, hard felt hat, under the brim of which his lank tails of brick-colored hair fell in dry, thin tassels. The man he walked with seemed old and bent, and he moved with a spiritless, hesitating step that appeared to cause the other some impatience. I was so far from claiming knowledge of this second person that, when he turned his head aside a moment to gaze upon something as I came near, it was with a most painful shock that I discovered it to be my father. I hurried up, calling to him. He gave a great start--they both did--and turned round to meet me. Then I was terribly taken aback to see the change that had come over him. He, whom four years ago I had left hale, self-reliant, powerful in body and intellect, was to all appearance a halting and decrepit old man, in whom the worst sign was the senile indecision of his eyes. He came at me, holding out both his hands in welcome with trembling eagerness, and I was much moved to see some glint of tears furrowing his cheeks. “Renalt, my boy--Renalt, my boy!” he cried in a gladsome, thin voice, and that was all; for he could find words for no more, but stood looking up in my face--I topped him now--with a half-searching, half-deprecating earnestness of perusal.