After some conversation--“I don’t want to rip up old sores, my dear Miss Manwaring,” said the old man, in sympathising tones, “but I want to ask you a curious question, and that is, are you quite sure your brother Wilfred is no longer alive?” “Yes,” answered Evelyn, after a pause, “I fear there is no doubt that such is the case. Remember how, after his innocence was proved, we advertised for him in every paper, and offered rewards for any information about him, but all in vain. And then think how circumstantial were the reports that he had embarked in that poor ship which went down in the Atlantic. Yes, I fear there cannot be a shadow of a doubt that such is the case. And yet,” added she, “my foolish heart sometimes tells me he is alive; but then, if so, why does he not write, for surely he must have seen some of the advertisements. And now, Mr. Merivale, don’t think me gone out of my wits when I tell you I dreamed the other night he was alive and well, and then I awoke, oh! so happy! Why should I have felt happy if he is dead?” “I am afraid, my dear young lady,” responded Mr. Merivale, “that you must not build upon ‘the baseless fabric of a vision;’ and I really don’t know why I asked you the question. ‘There’s no fool like an old fool,’ you will say. And now I must tell you, as a lawyer, that I don’t see how you can refuse to give up possession of the place to this snobbish cousin of yours, and his vulgar wife and flashy daughters. That he has intruded upon you in the manner he has, is perfectly outrageous; and my only comfort is, his conduct will do him no good amongst the neighbours when he comes to reside.” After a little more conversation, chiefly upon business matters, Mr. Merivale, rejecting all offers of hospitality, took his leave; and shortly afterwards, luncheon being announced, Tresham Potts joined his cousin in the dining-room. “Glad to see this rum old place in better condition than I expected,” was his first observation, as he put an entire grouse upon his plate; “but I don’t like to see such a lot of wheezy old stagers messing about the grounds. I shall make a clean sweep on ’em, I can tell ’em, when I come here. A Scotch gardener, who knows a thing or two, will soon settle _their_ hash, you bet. But I say, cousin, who was that seedy old fellow I saw coming across the garden, and marching into the house by the glass door into the drawing-room?” “That gentleman was my dear old friend, Mr. Elthorne, the Rector of Holmcastle,” answered Evelyn. “Oh! a parson, was it; I thought so. Them locusts are everywhere; but I shall take care not to let him come prowling about the place when I’m here, I can tell him. Precious impudent it seems, his coming in as he did, considering the place belongs to me!”