Inside the room an old man sat at a table. It was littered with books,
some of them open as if he had been consulting them; but before him lay
an open deed, and at his elbow were several others lying on an open
deed-box. He was thin and as faded-looking and as worn with age as the
house and the room, lined with dusty volumes and yellow,
surface-cracked maps and pictures. He wore a long dressing-gown which
was huddled round him as if he were cold, though a fire of logs almost
as large as the one in the hall was burning in the open fire-place.
At the sound of the knock he raised his head, an expression, which was
a mixture of fear and senile cunning came into his lined and pallid
face, his dull eyes peered from under their lids with a flash of sudden
alertness, and with one motion of his long hands he hurriedly folded
the deed before him, crammed it, with the others, into the box, locked
it with a hurried and trembling hand, and placed it in a cupboard,
which he also locked; then he drew one of the large books into the
place were the deed had been, and with a cautious glance round the
room, shuffled to the door, and opened it.
As the girl entered, one would have noticed the resemblance between her
and the old man, and have seen that they were father and daughter; for
Godfrey Heron had been one of the handsomest men of his time, and
though she had got her dark eyes and the firm, delicate lips from her
mother, the clear oval of her face and its expression of aristocratic
pride had come from the Herons.
"Are you here still, father?" she said. "It is nearly dinner-time, and
you are not dressed. You promised me that you would go out: how wicked
of you not to have done so!"
He shuffled back to the table and made a great business of closing the
book.
"I've been busy--reading, Ida," he said. "I did not know it was so
late. You have been out, I see; I hope you have enjoyed your ride. Have
you met anyone?"
"No," she replied; then she smiled, as she added: "Only a poacher."
The old man raised his head, a faint flush came on his face and his
eyes flashed with haughty resentment.
"A poacher! What are the keepers about! Ah, I forgot; there are no
keepers now; any vagrant is free to trespass and poach on Herondale!"