472
WYLDER'S HAJVD.
I was as much surprised as any for a few seconds. But
there were points of difference — Jim Dutton was rather
a taller and every way a larger man than Mark Wylder.
His face, too, was broader and coarser, but in features and
limbs the relative proportions were wonderfully preserved.
It was such an exaggerated portrait as a rustic genius
might have executed upon a sign-board. He had the same
black, curly hair, and thick, black whiskers; and the style
of his dress being the same, helped the illusion. In fact,
it was a rough, but powerful likeness — startling at the
moment — unexceptionable at a little distance — but
which failed on a nearer and exacter examination. There
was, beside a scar, which, however, was not a very glar-
ing inconsistency, although it was plainly of a much old-
er standing than the date of Mark's disappearance.
All that could be got from Jim Dutton was that "he
thought he might be mistook," and so attended. But re-
specting Mr. Mark Wylder he could say "nowt." He
knew " nowt."
Lord Chelford was called away this moment by an ur-
gent note. It was to request his immediate attendance at
Redman's Farm, to see Captain Lake, who was in a most
alarming state. The hand was Dorcas's — and Lord
Chelford jumped into the little pony carriage which await-
ed him at the door of the " Silver Lion."
When he reached Redman's Farm, Captain Lake could
not exert himself sufficiently to speak for nearly half-an
hour. At the end of that time he was admitted into the
tiny drawing-room in which the Captain lay. He was
speaking with difficulty.
"Did you see Buddle, just now?"
"No, not since morning."
"He seems to have changed — bad opinion—unless
he has a law object — those d—d doctors — never can
know. Dorcas thinks—I'll do no good. Don't yoa