"And they were well, I hope?"
"Well enough—then."
"Then?" cried Adrian. "Then! Why, what has happened since?"
"Didn't you know old Hayes was dead?"
The young man drew a long breath. "No, I didn't!"
"Died just a week before Christmas. The old house is shut up."
Adrian was silent for a moment. "Poor old fellow!" he said at last. "I'm very sorry to hear it. And the house shut up—of course Miss Strange would go back to her people in Devonshire." Reynold looked at him silently. "I wonder who will take the old Place!" said Adrian. "If I were rich—" Their glances met once more, and he stopped short, and strolled towards the window.
"A castle in the air," he said, presently. "I don't suppose I shall ever see Mitchelhurst again, since the poor old gentleman is gone. But I shall always remember the place. Not for its beauty, precisely. I know when I went there first I was surprised that he should care to live in a corner of that great white pile. Something rather sepulchral about it. Did you ever notice it by moonlight?"
Reynold Harding said, Yes, he had.