Byron do."
"That is true," said Lydia, thoughtfully. "Still," she added,
clearing her brow and laughing, "I am loath to believe that he is an
invalid student."
"I will tell you what he is," said Alice suddenly. "He is companion
and keeper to the man with whom he lives. Do you recollect his
saying 'Mellish is mad'?"
"That is possible," said Lydia. "At all events we have got a topic;
and that is an important home comfort in the country."
Just then they reached the castle. Lydia lingered for a moment on
the terrace. The Gothic chimneys of the Warren Lodge stood up
against the long, crimson cloud into which the sun was sinking. She
smiled as if some quaint idea had occurred to her; raised her eyes
for a moment to the black-marble Egyptian gazing with unwavering
eyes into the sky; and followed Alice in-doors.
Later on, when it was quite dark, Cashel sat in a spacious kitchen
at the lodge, thinking. His companion, who had laid his coat aside,
was at the fire, smoking, and watching a saucepan that simmered
there. He broke the silence by remarking, after a glance at the
clock, "Time to go to roost."
"Time to go to the devil," said Cashel. "I am going out."
"Yes, and get a chill.
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