The Interloper by Violet Jacob

GILBERT SPEID sat in the house just outside Madrid, which had / represented home to him for most of the eighteen months of his sojourn / in Spain; he was newly returned from Granada. It had been Mr. Speid's / custom to pass a part of each year there, and it was there that he had, / according to his wish, been buried. Gilbert had gone to look at the / grave, for the decent keeping of which he paid a man a small yearly / sum, and had found his money honestly earned; then, having satisfied / himself on that point, he had wandered about in haunts familiar to him / in his youth and early manhood. It was not three years since he had set / foot in them last and he was not much more than thirty-two years old, / but it seemed to him that he looked at them across a gulf filled with / age and time. He returned to Madrid wondering why he had left it, and / finding a certain feeling of home-coming in his pleasure at seeing his / horses.

He made no pretence of avoiding his fellow-creatures and no efforts to / meet them; and as, though he spoke perfect Spanish, he had always been / a silent man, there was little difference in his demeanour. But it was / universally admitted among old acquaintances that his Scottish life had / spoiled him. He rode a great deal and frequented the same company; and / he would often stroll down to the fencing-school where he had learned / so much to practise with his old master, or with any new light which / had risen among the foils since he left Spain. He felt the pressing / need of settling to some definite aim in life, but he put off the / trouble of considering it from week to week and from month to month.