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"Donal Grant, by George MacDonald"

The sound I heard might have been that of a
ghostly violin. Though like that of a stringed instrument, it was
different from anything I had ever heard before--except perhaps
certain equally inexplicable sounds occasionally heard among the
hills."
They went on talking about the thing for a while, pacing up and down
the garden, the sun hot above their heads, the grass cool under
their feet.
"It is enough," said Miss Graeme, with a rather forced laugh, "to
make one glad the castle does not go with the title."
"Why so?" asked Donal.
"Because," she answered, "were anything to happen to the boys up
there, Hector would come in for the title."
"I'm not of my sister's mind!" said Mr. Graeme, laughing more
genuinely. "A title with nothing to keep it up is a simple
misfortune. I certainly should not take out the patent. No wise
man would lay claim to a title without the means to make it
respected."
"Have we come to that!" exclaimed Donal. "Must even the old titles
of the country be buttressed into respectability with money? Away
in quiet places, reading old history books, we peasants are
accustomed to think differently. If some millionaire money-lender
were to buy the old keep of Arundel castle, you would respect him
just as much as the present earl!"
"I would not," said Mr. Graeme. "I confess you have the better of
me.--But is there not a fallacy in your argument?" he added,
thinkingly.


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