rriving at the house, Barney took round the horse--a hired one, by
the way--to the stable, and Woodward knocked. On the door being
opened, he inquired if Mr. Lindsay was within, and was answered in the
affirmative.

"Will you let him know a gentleman wishes to see him for a few minutes?"

"What name, sir, shall I say?"

"O, it doesn't matter--say a gentleman."

"Step into the parlor, sir, and he will be with you immediately."

He did so, and there was but a very short time when his step-father
entered. Short, as the time was, however, he could not prevent himself
from reverting to the strange equestrian he had met on his way, nor to
the extraordinary ascendancy he had gained over him. Another young man
placed in his circumstances would have felt agitated and excited by his
approaching interview with those who were so nearly related to him, and
whom, besides, he had not seen for such a long period of time. To
every such emotion, however, he was absolutely insensible; there was
no beating pulse, no heaving of the bosom, not a nerve disturbed by the
tremulous vibrations of awakened affection, no tumult of the heart, no
starting tear--no! there was nothing of all this--but, on the contrary,
a calm, cold, imperturbable spirit, so dead and ignorant of domestic
attachment, that the man could neither feel nor understand what it
meant.

When his step-father entered, he naturally bowed to the stranger,
and motioned him to a seat, which the other accordingly took. Lindsay
certainly was, as Barney Casey had said, a very fine-looking man for his
years. He was tall, erect, and portly, somewhat inclined to corpulency,
of a handsome, but florid countenance, in which might be read a large
expression of cheerfulness and good humor, together with that peculiar
tinge which results from conviviality. Indeed, there could scarcely
be witnessed a more striking contrast than that between his open,
kind-looking features, and the sharp, disagreeable symmetry which marked
those of his step-son with such a dark and unpleasant character.

"My servant tells me," said Lindsay, courteously, "that you wished to
see me."

"I did, sir," replied Woodward; "in that, he spoke correctly; I wished
to see you, and I am glad to see you."

"I thank you, sir," replied the other, bowing again; "but--ahem--in the
meantime, sir, you have the advantage of me."

"And intend to keep it, sir, for a little," replied Woodward with one of
his cold smiles. "I cam