Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: Chapter 11 On the eve of his majority, John travelled down to the little country town of Thisselton St. John, where he had agreed to spend the following morning with the old lawyer who managed?or latterly had done his best to stop the mismanagement ? of the Thisselton estates. As the train dawdled along the branch line, John sat by the window with his eyes glued on the landscape; each turn of the wheels brought him nearer scenes that he loved so well. He glanced eagerly at the name boards of the stations as they slowly vanished from sight?for the railway company was under the impression that this was the fast train of the day?and when, after passing one which was more familiar than the rest, he caught a glimpse of a white house peeping through the bare branches of a belt of old trees, he was moved with that sudden, fierce excitement of the usually self-contained. He continued to gaze out of the window even after the fading of the early day was hastened by the gathering of heavy storm clouds. Soon the rain began to fall. It drove cold and pitiless against the fields and hedges; it lashed against the carriage windows. John could remember the splash anddrip on the roof of the old House, and now, that he was so near to home, the storm was as music to him. At length the engine came to a standstill within the station of what was locally known as St. John's. The storm had increased, the wind was rushing from end to end of the covered platform, the gas lamps were flickering in the draught, the water was splashing down from the overladen spouts. John alighted. He looked round with the quick air of one who would recall the whole of a scene at a glance. He was a noticeable figure, above middle height, straight, his head thrown back, his gestures commanding. But what principal...