"Yes. I don't feel inclined to trust the chances of another night in
London. I want to try the effect of perfect quiet. Do you mind going
back with me to Vange? Dull as the place is, you can amuse yourself.
There is good shooting, as you know."

In an hour more we had left London.

VII.

VANGE ABBEY is, I suppose, the most solitary country house in England.
If Romayne wanted quiet, it was exactly the place for him.

On the rising ground of one of the wildest moors in the North Riding of
Yorkshire, the ruins of the old monastery are visible from all points of
the compass. There are traditions of thriving villages clustering about
the Abbey, in the days of the monks, and of hostleries devoted to the
reception of pilgrims from every part of the Christian world. Not a
vestige of these buildings is left. They were deserted by the pious
inhabitants, it is said, at the time when Henry the Eighth suppress ed
the monasteries, and gave the Abbey and the broad lands of Vange to his
faithful friend and courtier, Sir Miles Romayne. In the next generation,
the son and heir of Sir Miles built the dwelling-house, helping himself
liberally from the solid stone walls of the monastery. With some
unimportant alterations and repairs, the house stands, defying time and
weather, to the present day.

At the last station on the railway the horses were waiting for us. It
was a lovely moonlight night, and we shortened the distance considerably
by taking the bridle path over the moor. Between nine and ten o'clock we