At least so thought one of the inmates of the manor-house as he got up from his music-stool and casually looked out of the fast-darkening window, thanking his stars that it mattered little to him, in his cosy bachelor- den, whether it went on a night or a fortnight.

This complacent individual was a man at whom one would be disposed to look twice before coming to any definite conclusion respecting him.

At the first glance you might put him down for twenty-five; at the second, you would wonder whether you had possibly made a slight miscalculation of twenty years.
His keen eyes, his smooth face, his athletic figure, his somewhat dandified dress were all in favour of the young man.

The double line across his brow, the enigmas about his lips, the imperturbable gravity of his features bespoke the elder.

Handsome he was not--he was hardly good-looking, and the nervous twitch of his eyebrow as it came down over his single eye-glass constantly disfigured him.