Margaret was not slow to perceive the meaning of these machinations, yet she hoped still, although they wrought upon her spirit fearfully, wrought even on her health, and dimmed the resplendence of her dazzling beauty, that by patience and self-control, and the calm endurance of a noble mind, she should be enabled to protract matters at least until something should fall out which might give her an advantage over her persecutors, in the deep and wily game they were playing against her. Thus time wore onward, until the latter days of autumn, the autumn of 1644, were fast approaching. The dark woods of Clavering-in-the-Hollow had changed their deep garniture of summer greenery for the sere and melancholy russet; the dead leaves came whirling slowly down through the still and misty atmosphere, and lay in thick decaying masses, red and rank, over the steamy grass. The solitary fish-ponds were veiled by the white vapors which hung over them even at noonday; and a faint mouldering, earthy odor, reminding those who perceived it of the scent of a burial-vault, dwelt heavily among the deep, moist woodlands, and rendered those wild wood-paths, which were so cool and attractive in the budding days of early spring-time, and the fierce heats of summer, loathsome and almost insalubrious. Even in the open lawns and trim terraced gardens which surrounded the old hall, the faint and sickly sunshine fell but for a few hours at mid-day, and then with a melancholy and as it would seem reluctant lustre. A gloomy place, and solitary at the best, in such a season, was Clavering-in-the-Hollow; but now it was doubly so, from the total absence of all animation, all sound, or show of human life within its precincts. Old age, and fast growing infirmities had long since debarred Sir Hugh from his once loved field-sports; sons he had none, nor nephews, nor kindred, except his one fair daughter; and thence it was, that no baying of the merry fox-hound was ever heard in those deep glades and tangled dingles; no ringing report of the birding-piece or carbine awoke the echoes of the bare downs above; no merry cavalcades of gorgeous cavaliers and merry ladies, with falcon on fist, and spaniel at heel, were ever seen sweeping over those solitary lawns, and filling those lonely places with sounds and sights of beauty.