Old aristocratic instincts came to the aid of passionate will, and, perhaps, of an uneasy conscience.
And now in the man's vain but not ignoble soul there stirred a first passing terror of what the war might do with him, if he were _forced_ to feel it--to let it in.

He saw it as a veiled Presence at the Door--and struggled with it blindly.
He was just turning back to the house, when he saw a figure approaching in the distance which he recognized.

It was that of a man, once a farmer of his, and a decent fellow--oh, that he confessed!--with whom he had had a long quarrel over a miserable sum of money, claimed by the tenant when he left his farm, and disputed by the landlord.
The dispute had gone on for two years.

The Squire's law-costs had long since swallowed up the original money in dispute.
Then Miss Bremerton, to whom the Squire had dictated some letters in connection with the squabble, had quietly made a suggestion--had asked leave to write a letter on approval.

For sheer boredom with the whole business, the Squire had approved and sent the letter.
Then, this very morning, a reply from the farmer.