Penrose was perhaps deficient in the sense of humor.  Instead of being amused, he appeared to be anxious for more information.

“In what capacity am I to be Mr. Romayne’s companion?” he asked.

Father Benwell poured himself out another cup of coffee.

“Suppose I tell you first,” he suggested, “how circumstances present Romayne to us as a promising subject for conversion.  He is young; still a single man; not compromised by any illicit connection; romantic, sensitive, highly cultivated.  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.  One result of the consultation I extracted from him, in which you are interested.  The doctors protested against his employing himself on his proposed work.  He was too obstinate to listen to them.  There was but one concession that they could gain from him—­he consented to spare himself, in some small degree, by employing an amanuensis.  It was left to Lord Loring to find the man.  I was consulted by his lordship; I was even invited to undertake the duty myself.  Each one in his proper sphere, my son!  The person who converts Romayne must be young enough and pliable enough to be his friend and companion.  Your part is there, Arthur—­you are the future amanuensis.  How does the prospect strike you now?”

“I beg your pardon, Father!  I fear I am unworthy of the confidence which is placed in me.”

“In what way?”

Penrose answered with unfeigned humility.