It was wide open, and the Squire, with outstretched hands, rose to meet them.

While yet upon the threshold he kissed both Ethel and Ruth, and, clasping the Judge's hand, gazed at him with such a piercing, kindly look that the eyes of both men filled with tears.
He led them into the hall, and standing there he seemed almost a part of it.

In his youth he had been a son of Anak, and his great size had been matched by his great strength.

His stature was still large, his face broad and massive, and an abundance of snow-white hair emphasized the dignity of a countenance which age had made nobler.

The generations of eight hundred years were crystallized in this benignant old man, looking with such eager interest into the faces of his strange kindred from a far-off land.
In the evening they sat together in the old hall talking of the Rawdons.
"There is great family of us, living and dead," said the Squire, "and I count them all my friends.