The heartiness with which she spoke, and the warmth of her words—­not of her manner, which was cold and distant—­made him suspicious.  In the meantime both his uncle and Sir Nathaniel had thanked her for the invitation—­of which, however, they said they were unable to avail themselves.  Adam had a suspicion that, though she answered regretfully, she was in reality relieved.  When he had got into the carriage with the two old men, and they had driven off, he was not surprised when Sir Nathaniel spoke.

“I could not but feel that she was glad to be rid of us.  She can play her game better alone!”

“What is her game?” asked Adam unthinkingly.

“All the county knows it, my boy.  Caswall is a very rich man.  Her husband was rich when she married him—­or seemed to be.  When he committed suicide, it was found that he had nothing left, and the estate was mortgaged up to the hilt.  Her only hope is in a rich marriage.  I suppose I need not draw any conclusion; you can do that as well as I can.”

Adam remained silent nearly all the time they were travelling through the alleged Vale of Cheshire.  He thought much during that journey and came to several conclusions, though his lips were unmoved.  One of these conclusions was that he would be very careful about paying any attention to Lady Arabella.  He was himself a rich man, how rich not even his uncle had the least idea, and would have been surprised had he known.

The remainder of the journey was uneventful, and upon arrival at Liverpool they went aboard the West African, which had just come to the landing-stage.  There his uncle introduced himself to Mr. Caswall, and followed this up by introducing Sir Nathaniel and then Adam.  The new-comer received them graciously, and said what a pleasure it was to be coming home after so long an absence of his family from their old seat.  Adam was pleased at the warmth of the reception; but he could not avoid a feeling of repugnance at the man’s face.  He was trying hard to overcome this when a diversion was caused by the arrival of Lady Arabella.  The diversion was welcome to all; the two Saltons and Sir Nathaniel were shocked at Caswall’s face—­so hard, so ruthless, so selfish, so dominant.  “God help any,” was the common thought, “who is under the domination of such a man!”

Presently his African servant approached him, and at once their thoughts changed to a larger toleration.  Caswall looked indeed a savage—­but a cultured savage.  In him were traces of the softening civilisation of ages—­of some of the higher instincts and education of man, no matter how rudimentary these might be.  But the face of Oolanga, as his master called him, was unreformed, unsoftened savage, and inherent in it were all the hideous possibilities of a lost, devil-ridden child of the forest and the swamp—­the lowest of all created things that could be regarded as in some form ostensibly human.  Lady Arabella and Oolanga arrived almost simultaneously,