even his
friends at the time thought providential. He went abroad for a long
time. Then he came into a title and returned to England. He was
obliged to take up his position, and people were willing enough to
forget the past. He opened his London house, and accepted every
invitation which came. At the very first party he went to, he came
face to face with the judge who had tried him. My mother was there. I
remember she told me how he looked. It was foolish of me, but I
thought of it when I saw you just then."

Saton smiled sympathetically.

"And the end of the story?" he asked.

"The man had such a shock," she continued, "that he shut up his house,
gave up all his schemes for re-entering life, left England, and never
set foot in the country again."

Saton rose to his feet.

"I see that my host is beckoning me," he said. "Will you excuse me for
a moment?"

Rochester passed his arm through the younger man's.

"Come into the gun-room for a few minutes," he said. "I want to show
you the salmon flies I was speaking of."

Saton smiled a little curiously, and followed his host across the hall
and down the long stone passage which led to the back quarters of the
house. The gun-room was deserted and empty. Rochester closed the door.

"My young friend," he said, "if you do not object, I should like to
have a few minutes of plain speaking with you."

"I should be delighted," Saton answered, seating himself deliberately
in a battered old easy-chair.

"Seven years ago," Rochester continued, leaning his elbow against
the mantelpiece, "we made a bargain. I sent you out into the world,
an egotistical Don Quixote, and I provided you with the means with
which you were to turn the windmills into castles. I made one
condition--two, in fact. One that you came back. Well, you have kept
that. The other was that you told me what it was like to build the
castles of bricks and mortar, which in the days when I knew you, you
built in fancy only."

"Aren't you a little allegorical?" Saton asked, calmly.

"I admit it," Rochester answered. "I was very nearly, in fact, out of
my depth. Tell me, in plain words, what have you done with yourself
these seven years?"

"You want me," Saton remarked, "to give an account of my stewardship."

"Put it any way you please," Rochester answered. "The fact remains
that though you are a guest in my house, you are a complete stranger
to me."

Saton smiled.

"You might have thought of that," he