The room and his companion were forgotten.
He was again at Moorlands, the old negro following him about, his dear mother sitting by his bed or kissing him goodnight.
For an instant he sat gazing into the smouldering embers absorbed in his thoughts.

Then as if some new vista had opened out before him he asked suddenly: "You don't know what he was doing in town, do you?
Was my mother with him ?" "No, he was alone.

He had brought some things in for Mr.Seymour--some game or something, if I remember right.

There's to be a wedding there soon, so I hear.

Yes, now I think of it, it WAS game--some partridges, perhaps, your father had sent in.