"I shall be gone," Saton answered, "before any of your guests are up.
In case I do not see you again alone, let me ask you a question, or
rather a favor."

Rochester bowed slightly.

"There is a house below the Convalescent Home--Blackbird's Nest, they
call it," Saton said. "It is empty now--too large for your keepers,
too small for a country seat. Will you let it to me?"

Rochester looked at him with uplifted eyebrows.

"Let it to you?" he repeated. "Do you mean to say that after an
adventurous career such as I imagine you have had, you think of
settling down, at your age, in a neighborhood like this?"

"Scarcely that," Saton answered. "I shall be here only for a few days
at a time, at different periods in the year. The one taste which I
share in common with the boy whom you knew, is a love for the country,
especially this part of it."

"You wish to live there alone?" Rochester asked.

"There is one--other person," Saton answered with some hesitation.

Rochester sighed gently.

"Alas!" he said. "Instinct tells me that that person will turn out to
be of the other sex. If only you knew, my young friend, what the
morals of this neighborhood are, you would understand how fatal your
proposal is."

Something that was almost malign gleamed for a moment in Saton's eyes.

"It is true," he said, "that the person I spoke of is a woman, but as
she is at least sixty years old, and can only walk with the help of a
stick, I do not think that she would be apt to disturb the moral
prejudices of your friends."

"What has she to do with you?" Rochester asked, a little shortly.
"Have you found relatives out in the world, or are you married?"

Saton smiled.

"I am not married," he answered, "and as the lady in question is a
foreigner, there is no question of any relationship between us. I am,
as a matter of fact, her adopted son."

"You can go and see my agent," Rochester answered. "Personally, I
shall not interfere. I am to take it for granted, then, I presume,
that you have nothing more to tell me concerning yourself?"

"At present, nothing," Saton answered. "Some day, perhaps," he added,
rising, "I may tell you everything. You see," he added, "I feel that
my life, such as it is, is in some respects dedicated to you, and that
you therefore have a certain right to know something of it. But that
time has not come yet."

Once more there was a short and somewhat inexplicable pause, and once
more Rochester knew that he