In the
look he had taken at Pike, it struck him he had seen the face before:
something in the countenance seemed familiar to his memory. And to his
surprise he saw that the man was young.
The supposed reminiscence did not trouble him: he was too pre-occupied
with thoughts of his own affairs to have leisure for Mr. Pike's. A short
bit of road, and this rude, sheltered part of the way terminated in more
open ground, where three paths diverged: one to the front of Hartledon;
one to some cottages, and on through the wood to the high-road; and one
towards the Rectory and Calne. Rural paths still, all of them; and the
last was provided with a bench or two. Val Elster strolled on almost to
the Rectory, and then turned back: he had no errand at Calne, and the
Rectory he would rather keep out of just now. When he reached the little
bridge Pike was on it alone; the other had disappeared. As before, he
stepped off to make way for Mr. Elster.
"I beg pardon, sir, for addressing you just now as Lord Hartledon."
The salutation took Val by surprise; and though the voice seemed muffled,
as though the man purposely mouthed his words, the accent and language
were superior to anything he might have expected from one of Mr. Pike's
appearance and reputed character.
"No matter," said Val, courteous even to Pike, in his kindly nature. "You
mistook me for my brother.
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