"
As Sir Temple said, Stephen Archdale had been moody during the remainder
of the ride. The old butler's behavior, so at variance with his usual
deference, disturbed him. It was evident that Edmonson had come upon the
man like an apparition. But why? Stephen intuitively connected this in
some way with the conversation between the father and the son which he
had overheard that winter's day in the woods. Glancing at his companion,
he saw that Edmonson was aware of the startling effect he had produced,
and that the answer was in his face, which was jubilant. Indeed, he
could hardly restrain himself. Wheeling about in his saddle as they
rode, he broke out into a few notes of some rollicking song, asking Sir
Temple if he remembered it. To him this effect that he had produced
meant that the first stroke of the hour, his hour, had sounded; to
Archdale it meant that some mystery was here, some catastrophe
impending. He could readily connect calamity with Edmonson.
At the door he dismounted like one lost in thought, and with difficulty
threw off his moodiness; while Edmonson sprang to the ground and ran
lightly up the steps into the house, his eyes sparkling and his face
aglow with a beauty that Elizabeth was beginning to analyze.
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