‘Your friend—’
‘Has only come here quite recently. She is away from home to-day.... It was very sad,’ murmured the young girl thoughtfully. ‘No sooner had Mr. Power bought it of the representatives of Mr. Wilkins—almost immediately indeed—than he died from a chill caught after a warm bath. On account of that she did not take possession for several months; and even now she has only had a few rooms prepared as a temporary residence till she can think what to do. Poor thing, it is sad to be left alone!’
Somerset heedfully remarked that he thought he recognized that name Power, as one he had seen lately, somewhere or other.
‘Perhaps you have been hearing of her father. Do you know what he was?’
Somerset did not.
She looked across the distant country, where undulations of dark-green foliage formed a prospect extending for miles. And as she watched, and Somerset’s eyes, led by hers, watched also, a white streak of steam, thin as a cotton thread, could be discerned ploughing that green expanse. ‘Her father made THAT,’ Miss De Stancy said, directing her finger towards the object.
‘That what?’
‘That railway. He was Mr. John Power, the great railway contractor. And it was through making the railway that he discovered this castle—the railway was diverted a little on its account.’
‘A clash between ancient and modern.’
‘Yes, but he took an interest in the locality long before he purchased the estate. And he built the people a chapel on a bit of freehold he bought for them. He was a great Nonconformist, a staunch Baptist up to the day of his death—a much stauncher one,’ she said significantly, ‘than his daughter is.’