"That's right; I will call for you in the carriage at six o'clock. You
will have done your day's work by then?"

"Yes; I will so arrange."

On our way to Derval Court that evening, Strahan talked much about
Margrave, of whom, nevertheless, he seemed to be growing weary.

"His high spirits are too much for one," said he; "and then so
restless,--so incapable of sustained quiet conversation. And, clever
though he is, he can't help me in the least about the new house I shall
build. He has no notion of construction. I don't think he could build a
barn."

"I thought you did not like to demolish the old house, and would content
yourself with pulling down the more ancient part of it?"

"True. At first it seemed a pity to destroy so handsome a mansion; but
you see, since poor Sir Philip's manuscript, on which he set such store,
has been too mutilated, I fear, to allow me to effect his wish with regard
to it, I think I ought at least scrupulously to obey his other whims.
And, besides, I don't know, there are odd noises about the old house. I
don't believe in haunted houses; still there is something dreary in
strange sounds at the dead of night, even if made by rats, or winds
through decaying rafters. You, I remember at college, had a taste for
architecture, and can draw plans. I wish to follow out Sir Philip's
design, but on a smaller scale, and with more attention to comfort."

Thus he continued to run on, satisfied to find me a silent and attentive
listener. We arrived at the mansion an hour before sunset, the westering