isposition; for he had
patiently acquired habits of self-control, learned partly in the school
of chastisement, and partly in the school of self-discipline. And yet
it was not without a feeling of shrinking and misgiving that he saw a
man approaching the oak from a path opposite to that by which he himself
had come. Trees, mingled with thick brushwood, covered the ground on
all sides, except where the roads and bridle-paths ran, and not a
creature had he met before since he turned out of the main road. Little
time, however, was allowed him for further reflection; in a minute more
he was joined by the other traveller. A single glance was sufficient to
satisfy him that he had before him the same man who had attracted his
attention the evening before at the Wheatsheaf.

The stranger was, as has been said, tall, and wore a long beard. On the
present occasion he was wrapped in an ample cloak, and had on his head a
high-crowned hat encircled with a feather. Amos could not make him
out;--what was he? As they came close up to one another, the stranger
saluted Amos with an air of mingled ease and affectation, and motioned
him to a seat when he had dismounted from his pony. So Amos, still
holding Prince's bridle in his hand, placed himself on a grassy mound
near the base of the old oak, while the other seated himself a few paces
from him. Neither spoke for a little while; then the stranger broke the
silence. His voice was not, in its natural tones, otherwise than
pleasing; but there was an assumption in his manner of speaking and a
spice of sarcastic swagger which grated very painfully on the
sensibilities of his companion. However, it was pretty evident that the
stranger had no particular care to spare the feelings of the person whom
he was addressing.

"I may as well explain at once, Mr Huntingdon," he began, "how I came
to communicate with you in a way somewhat uncommon. The fact is, that I
have reasons for not wishing to make myself known more than I can help
to the good people in these parts. Now, had I sent you my note by the
hand of any messenger, this would have drawn attention to myself, and
might have led to inquiries about me which are not just now convenient.
I was quite sure that yourself, or some one belonging to you, would be
searching up and down the lanes for the little boy, and that his silk
handkerchief, placed where I put it, would attract notice, and the note
tied up in it be conveyed to yoursel