“Mr. Lyon, now!” he exclaimed, in a low, agitated voice.  “What does this mean?” he added, as his mind grew bewildered, and his footsteps were stayed.

Another moment, and he saw that he had erred in regard to the man’s identity.  It wars not Mr. Lyon, but a stranger.  Advancing again, they met, and the stranger, pausing, said: 

“Mr. Markland, I believe?”

“That is my name, sir,” was answered.

“And my name is Willet.”

“Ah, yes!” said Mr. Markland extending his hand.  “I learned, to-day, in the city, that you had purchased Ashton’s fine place.  I am happy, sir, to make your acquaintance, and if there is any thing in which I can serve you, do not hesitate to command me.”

“Many thanks for your kind offer,” returned Mr. Willet.  “A stranger who comes to reside in the country has need of friendly consideration; and I stand just in that relation to my new neighbours.  To certain extent I am ignorant of the ways and means appertaining to the locality; and can only get enlightened through an intercourse with the older residents.  But I have no right to be obtrusive, or to expect too much concession to a mere stranger.  Until I am better known, I will only ask the sojourner’s kindness—­not the confidence one friend gives to another.”

There was a charm about the stranger’s manner, and a peculiar music in his voice, that won their way into the heart of Mr. Markland.

“Believe me, sir,” he replied, “that my tender of friendly offices is no unmeaning courtesy.  I comprehend, entirely, your position; for I once held just your relation to the people around me.  And now, if there are any questions to which an immediate answer is desired, ask them freely.  Will you not return with me to my house?”

“Thank you!  Not now.  I came over to ask if you knew a man named Burk, who lives in the neighbourhood.”

“Yes; very well,” answered Mr. Markland.

“Is he a man to be depended upon?”

“He’s clever, and a good man about a place; but, I am sorry to say, not always to be depended upon.”

“What is the trouble with him?” asked Mr. Willet.

“The trouble with most men who occasionally drink to excess.”

“Oh!  That’s it.  You’ve said enough, sir; he won’t suit me.  I shall have to be in the city for a time, almost every day, and would not, by any means, feel safe or comfortable in knowing that such a person was in charge of things.  Besides, my mother, who is getting in years, has a particular dread of an intoxicated man, and I would on no account expose her to the danger of being troubled from this cause.  My sisters, who have lived all their lives in cities, will be timid in the country, and I therefore particularly desire the right kind of a man on the premises—­one who may be looked to as a protector in my absence.  You understand, now, what kind of a person I want?”

“Clearly.”

“This Burk would not suit.”