"He was a
great companion, and somehow I always met people with more confidence
when he was with me; he seemed to take away my shyness. But the license
was seven-and-sixpence, and I haven't got seven-and-sixpence; also he
has an excellent home with that stuffy old woman, if a dull one, for he
must miss his walk. Oh! it's you, Anthony. What are you doing here at
this time of night? Your father told me you had a bad cold and there's
so much sickness about. You should be careful, Anthony, you know
you're not too strong, none of you Arnotts are. Well, I suppose you are
shooting, and most young men will risk a great deal in order to kill
God's other creatures."
The person addressed, a tall, broad-shouldered, rather pale young man
of about twenty-one, remarkable for his large brown eyes and a certain
sweet expression which contrasted somewhat oddly with the general
manliness of his appearance, lifted his cap and answered:
"No, Mr. Walrond, I am not shooting to-night. In fact, I was waiting
here to meet you."
"What for, Anthony? Nothing wrong up at the Hall, I hope."
"No, Mr. Walrond; why should there be anything wrong there?"
"I don't know, I am sure, only as a rule people don't wait for the
parson unless there is something amiss, and there seems to be so much
misfortune in this parish just now.
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