stioned Allan, in a singularly inquisitive manner, on the subject of
himself and his family, but had kept his own personal history entirely
in the dark. At some former period of his life he had been accustomed to
the sea and to sailing. Allan had, unfortunately, found this out, and
a bond of union between them was formed on the spot. With a merciless
distrust of the stranger--simply _because_ he was a stranger--which
appeared rather unreasonable to Mr. Brock, Mrs. Armadale besought the
rector to go to the inn without a moment's loss of time, and never to
rest until he had made the man give a proper account of himself. "Find
out everything about his father and mother!" she said, in her vehement
female way. "Make sure before you leave him that he is not a vagabond
roaming the country under an assumed name."

"My dear lady," remonstrated the rector, obediently taking his hat,
"whatever else we may doubt, I really think we may feel sure about the
man's name! It is so remarkably ugly that it must be genuine. No sane
human being would _assume_ such a name as Ozias Midwinter."

"You may be quite right, and I may be quite wrong; but pray go and see
him," persisted Mrs. Armadale. "Go, and don't spare him, Mr. Brock.
How do we know that this illness of his may not have been put on for a
purpose?"

It was useless to reason with her. The whole College of Physicians might
have certified to the man's illness, and, in her present frame of mind,
Mrs. Armadale would have disbelieved the College, one and all, from
the president downward. Mr. Brock took the wise way out of the
difficulty--he said no more, and he set off for the inn immediately.

Ozias Midwinter, recovering from brain-fever, was a startling object to
contemplate on a first view of him. His shaven head, tied up in an old
yellow silk handkerchief; his tawny, haggard cheeks; his bright brown
eyes, preternaturally large and wild; his rough black beard; his long,
supple, sinewy fingers, wasted by suffering till they looked like
claws--all tended to discompose the rector at the outset of the
interview. When the first feeling of surprise had worn off, the
impression that followed it was not an agreeable one. Mr. Brock could
not conceal from himself that the stranger's manner was against him.
The general opinion has settled that, if a man is honest, he is bound to
assert it by looking straight at his fellow-creatures when he speaks to
them. If this man was honest, his eyes show