meant to utter nothing more on this occasion.

"I am sure there must be many a story to tell about this old place,
if only there were any one to tell them," I said at last, looking
round the room once more.--"I think I see the remains of paintings
on the ceiling."

"You are sharp-eyed, sir. My father says they were plain enough in
his young days."

"Is your father alive, then?"

"That he is, sir, and hearty too, though he seldom goes out of doors
now. Will you go up stairs and see him? He's past ninety, sir. He
has plenty of stories to tell about the old place--before it began
to fall to pieces like."

"I won't go to-day," I said, partly because I wanted to be at home
to receive any one who might call, and partly to secure an excuse
for calling again upon the carpenter sooner than I should otherwise
have liked to do. "I expect visitors myself, and it is time I were
at home. Good morning."

"Good morning, sir."

And away home I went with a new wonder in my brain. The man did not
seem unknown to me. I mean, the state of his mind woke no feeling of
perplexity in me. I was certain of understanding it thoroughly when
I had learned something of his history; for that such a man must
have a history of his own was rendered only the more probable from