Pierce writes to Aline, of course, but tells her little about himself, and the letters come at longer intervals. There is never a word about the fortune he was to have made, and since those early years when he was with Mr. Desmond he sends home no money, though he must know how poor we are, and becoming poorer every year. I wonder how much longer we will be able to keep the wolf from the door, and Sir Rupert De Lacy out of Brandon. Oh, by the way, I must mention that Sir Rupert has taken to sending us at intervals proposals for the purchase of the old place! In the beginning Aline used to open these, and then fling them indignantly into the fire; but with the more recent ones she has simply readdressed them and sent them back unopened. I suppose the grim old wolf up there in Castle Angry just chuckles when his epistles come back to him, knowing he can bide his time. They say he drinks a great deal more than of old; but for the matter of that, no one can know, for he and Gaskin are the only two creatures inside Castle Angry. The place grows wickeder and grayer up there in its gash in the mountain, as legends and stories of its master's doings gather round it. I don't know if I said before that it is built after the manner of a fortified house, with a gateway under two turrets, and a moat drawn round about it. I have seen it from far off, and have thought its aspect had something sinister and frightful about it. The gates are locked and bolted, facing the bridge over the moat that has taken the place of what was once, no doubt, a drawbridge. The boys, who have ventured near, tell me that the moat is covered with green slime and full of unwholesome things, while the grassy space about is sodden, and overgrown with weird fungi of brilliant blue and scarlet. That is, no doubt, because of the exceeding damp of the place, for around and above it is bog, and the sun always seems to pass over that gash in Angry Mountain, as if there were something there which it hated. The boys are very curious about what lies beyond the moat and the barred gate. I have implored them not to venture near again, for if Sir Rupert caught sight of them, or Gaskin, who is a worse man, either might loose the bloodhounds, and then say afterwards that it was none of their doing. Poor boys! they are tall young striplings now; so handsome and distinguished for all their shabby clothes, made by Hugh Reilly, the tailor in Brandon village. It is hard that we could give them no proper education, and that they must be condemned indefinitely to do nothing except shoot rabbits on Brandon hill and fish in Brandon river. It is enough, as I say, to make good boys into worthless men.