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No near relations are alive to influence him; and, to my certain knowledge, his estate is not entailed. He has devoted himself for years past to books, and is collecting materials for a work of immense research, on the Origin of Religions. Some great sorrow or remorse — Lord Loring did not mention what it was — has told seriously on his nervous system, already injured by night study. Add to this, that he is now within our reach. He has lately returned to London, and is living quite alone at a private hotel. For some reason which I am not acquainted with, he keeps away from Vange Abbey — the very place, as I should have thought, for a studious man.” Penrose began to be interested. “Have you been to the Abbey?” he said. “I made a little excursion to that part of Yorkshire, Arthur, not long since. A very pleasant trip — apart from the painful associations connected with the ruin and profanation of a sacred place. There is no doubt about the revenues. I know the value of that productive part of the estate which stretches southward, away from the barren region round the house. Let us return for a moment to Romayne, and to your position as his future companion. He has had his books sent to him from Vange, and has persuaded himself that continued study is the one remedy for his troubles, whatever they may be. At Lord Loring’s suggestion, a consultation of physicians was held on his case the other day.” “Is he so ill as that?” Penrose exclaimed. “So it appears,” Father Benwell replied. “Lord Loring is mysteriously silent about the illness.