Lady Silchester smiled, and while the smile lasted I thought that I had never seen a more beautiful woman. Then she held out a delicate little hand, sparkling with rings, and placed it in mine, which in those days was as brown as a berry and not very soft. "Thank you so much, Mr. Morton." She looked up at me quite kindly for a moment. Then suddenly her manner completely--changed. She withdrew her eyes from my face, with a slight flush in her cheeks, and turned abruptly away. "Good evening, Mr. Morton. I am much obliged to you for your promise," she said, in a colder tone. I drew myself up, unconscious of having said or done anything which could possibly offend her, and feeling boyishly hurt at her change of manner. "Good evening, Lady Silchester," I answered, with all the dignity I could command. Then I turned away and left the Castle. I walked down the broad avenue slowly, casting many glances behind me at the vast, gloomy pile, around which the late evening mists were rising from the damp ground. Many lights were twinkling from the upper windows and from the east wing, where the servants' quarters were situated, but the lower part of the building lay in a deep obscurity, unilluminated, save by one faint light from Mr. Ravenor's study. There seemed something unnatural, almost ghostly, about the place, which chilled while it fascinated me. What was that? I stood suddenly still in the middle of the drive and listened. A faint, muffled cry, which seemed to me at first to be a human cry, had broken the deep evening stillness. I held my breath and remained quite motionless, with strained hearing. There was no repetition of it, no other sound. I was puzzled; more than half inclined to be alarmed. It might have been the crying of a hare, or the squealing of a rabbit caught by a stoat. But my first impression had been a strong one, improbable though it seemed. Poachers, however daring, would scarcely be likely to invade the closely-guarded inner grounds, where the preserves were fewer and the risk of capture far greater than outside the park. Besides, there had been no discharge of firearms, no commotion, no loud cries; only that one muffled, despairing moan. What could it mean? A steep ascent lay before me. After a moment's hesitation I hurried forward and did not pause until I reached the summit and had clear view around through the hazy twilight. CHAPTER XII. A DARK CORNER IN THE AVENUE.