From one solitary turret-chamber, however, there shone a ray of light; and towards this speck of comfort in the cold, cheerless, silent scene, Mr Willet bade his pilot lead him.
'The old room,' said John, looking timidly upward; 'Mr Reuben's own apartment, God be with us! I wonder his brother likes to sit there, so late at night--on this night too.' 'Why, where else should he sit ?' asked Hugh, holding the lantern to his breast, to keep the candle from the wind, while he trimmed it with his fingers.

'It's snug enough, an't it ?' 'Snug!' said John indignantly.

'You have a comfortable idea of snugness, you have, sir.

Do you know what was done in that room, you ruffian ?' 'Why, what is it the worse for that!' cried Hugh, looking into John's fat face.

'Does it keep out the rain, and snow, and wind, the less for that?
Is it less warm or dry, because a man was killed there?
Ha, ha, ha! Never believe it, master.