early specimens, intended for the old house, all spoiling and rotting, Mr. Darrell wishes them to do so, I believe! What he wishes must be done! my dear young Sir—a prodigious mind—it is of granite."
"I can not understand it," said Lionel, aghast. "The last man I should have thought capriciously whimsical."
"Whimsical! Bless my soul! don't say such a word—don't, pray, or the roof will fall down upon us! Come away. You have seen all you can see. You must go first now—mind that loose stone there!"
Nothing further was said till they were out of the building; and Lionel felt like a knight of old who had been led into sepulchral halls by a wizard.
CHAPTER V.
It was mid-day. The boy and his friend were standing apart as becomes silent anglers, on the banks of a narrow brawling rivulet, running through green pastures, half a mile from the house. The sky was overcast, as Darrell had predicted, but the rain did not yet fall. The two anglers were not long before they had filled a basket with small trout.
Then Lionel, who was by no means fond of fishing, laid his rod on the bank, and strolled across the long grass to his companion.
"It will rain soon," said he. "Let me take advantage of the present time, and hear the flute, while we can yet enjoy the open air. No, not by the margin, or you will be always looking after the trout. On the rising-ground, see that old thorn-tree—let us go and sit under it. The new building looks well from it. What a pile it would have been! I may not ask you, I suppose, why it is left incompleted. Perhaps it would have cost too much, or would have been disproportionate to the estate."
"To the present estate it would have been disproportioned, but not to the estate Mr. Darrell intended to add to it. As to
