I expect he will have arrived before us, and
we three can have a long chat after dinner. He is also our local
geologist and natural historian. So you and he will have many interests
in common. Amongst other things he has a special knowledge of the Peak
and its caverns, and knows all the old legends of prehistoric times." They spent the night at Cheltenham, and on the following morning resumed
their journey to Stafford. Adam's eyes were in constant employment, and
it was not till Salton declared that they had now entered on the last
stage of their journey, that he referred to Sir Nathaniel's coming. As the dusk was closing down, they drove on to Lesser Hill, Mr. Salton's
house. It was now too dark to see any details of their surroundings. Adam could just see that it was on the top of a hill, not quite so high
as that which was covered by the Castle, on whose tower flew the flag,
and which was all ablaze with moving lights, manifestly used in the
preparations for the festivities on the morrow. So Adam deferred his
curiosity till daylight. His grand-uncle was met at the door by a fine
old man, who greeted him warmly. "I came over early as you wished. I suppose this is your grand-nephew--I
am glad to meet you, Mr. Adam Salton. I am Nathaniel de Salis, and your
uncle is one of my oldest friends." Adam, from the moment of their eyes meeting, felt as if they were already
friends. The meeting was a new note of welcome to those that had already
sounded in his ears. The cordiality with which Sir Nathaniel and Adam met, made the imparting
of information easy. Sir Nathaniel was a clever man of the world, who
had travelled much, and within a certain area studied deeply. He was a
brilliant conversationalist, as was to be expected from a successful
diplomatist, even under unstimulating conditions. But he had been
touched and to a certain extent fired by the younger man's evident
admiration and willingness to learn from him. Accordingly the
conversation, which began on the most friendly basis, soon warmed to an
interest above proof, as the old man spoke of it next day to Richard
Salton. He knew already that his old friend wanted his grand-nephew to
learn all he could of the subject in hand, and so had during his journey
from the Peak put his thoughts in sequence for narration and explanation. Accordingly, Adam had only to listen and he must learn much that he
wanted to know. When dinner was over and the servants had withdrawn,
leaving the three men at their wine, Sir Nathaniel began. "I gather from your uncle--by the way, I suppose we had better speak of
you as uncle and nephew, instead of going into exact relationship? In
fact, your uncle is so old and dear a friend, that, with your permission,
I shall drop formality with you altogether and speak of you and to you as
Adam, as though you were his son." "I should like," answered the young man, "nothing better!" The answer warmed the hearts of both the old men, but, with the usual
avoidance of Englishmen of emotional subjects personal to themselves,
they instinctively returned to the previous question. Sir Nathaniel took
the lead. "I understand, Adam, that your uncle has posted you regarding the
relationships of the Caswall family?" "Partly, sir; but I understood that I was to hear minuter details from
you--if you would be so good." "I shall be delighted to tell you anything so far as my knowledge goes. Well, the first Caswall in our immediate record is an Edgar, head of the
family and owner of the estate, who came into his kingdom just about the
time that George III. did. He had one son of about twenty-four. There
was a violent quarrel between the two. No one of this generation has any
idea of the cause; but, considering the family characteristics, we may
take it for granted that though it was deep and violent, it was on the
surface trivial. "The result of the quarrel was that the son left the house without a
reconciliation or without even telling his father where he was going. He
never came back again. A few years after, he died, without having in the
meantime exchanged a word or a letter with his father. He married abroad
and left one son, who seems to have been brought up in ignorance of all
belonging to him. The gulf between them appears to have been
unbridgable; for in time this son married and in turn had a son, but
neither joy nor sorrow brought the sundered together. Under such
conditions no _rapprochement_ was to be looked for, and an utter
indifference, founded at best on ignorance, took the place of family
affection--even on community of interests. It was only due to the
watchfulness of the lawyers that the birth of this new heir was ever made
known. He actually spent a few months in the ancestral home. "After this the family interest merely rested on heirship of the estate. As no other children have been born to any of the newer generations in
the intervening years, all hopes of heritage are now centred in the
grandson of this man. "Now, it will be well for you to bear in mind the prevailing
characteristics of this race. These were well preserved and unchanging;
one and all they are the same: cold, selfish, dominant, reckless of
consequences in pursuit of their own will. It was not that they did not
keep faith, though that was a matter which gave them little concern, but
that they took care to think beforehand of what they should do in order
to gain their own ends. If they should make a mistake, someone else
should bear the burthen of it. This was so perpetually recurrent that it
seemed to be a part of a fixed policy. It was no wonder that, whatever
changes took place, they were always ensured in their own possessions. They were absolutely cold and hard by nature. Not one of them--so far as
we have any knowledge--was ever known to be touched by the softer
sentiments, to swerve from his purpose, or hold his hand in obedience to
the dictates of his heart. The pictures and effigies of them all show
their adherence to the early Roman type. Their eyes were full; their
hair, of raven blackness, grew thick and close and curly. Their figures
were massive and typical of strength. "The thick black hair, growing low down on the neck, told of vast
physical strength and endurance. But the most remarkable characteristic
is the eyes. Black, piercing, almost unendurable, they seem to contain
in themselves a remarkable will power which there is no gainsaying. It
is a power that is partly racial and partly individual: a power
impregnated with some mysterious quality, partly hypnotic, partly
mesmeric, which seems to take away from eyes that meet them all power of
resistance--nay, all power of wishing to resist. With eyes like those,
set in that all-commanding face, one would need to be strong indeed to
think of resisting the inflexible will that lay behind. "You may think, Adam, that all this is imagination on my part, especially
as I have never seen any of them. So it is, but imagination based on
deep study.