"
"I do not remember you," Lord Arleigh returned; "nor do I know where I
am."
"Then let me introduce myself as the Earl of Mountdean," said the
gentleman. "You are at Rosorton, a shooting-lodge belonging to me, and I
beg that you will make yourself at home."
Every attention was paid to him. He was placed in a warm bed, some
warm, nourishing soup was brought to him, and he was left to rest.
"The Earl of Mountdean." Then this was the tall figure he had seen
striding over the hills--this was the neighbor he had shunned and
avoided, preferring solitude. How kind he was, and how his voice
affected him! It was like long-forgotten melody. He asked himself
whether he had seen the earl anywhere. He could not remember. He could
not recall to his mind that they had ever met, yet he had most certainly
heard his voice. He fell asleep thinking of this, and dreamed of
Madaline all night long.
In the morning the earl came himself to his room to make inquiries; and
then Lord Arleigh liked him better than ever. He would not allow his
guest to rise.
"Remember," he said, "prevention is better than cure.
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