"The hill became steeper, and the horses walked up it until we came to the open ground at the top. There at last, as we drew out from under the trees, I saw the ancient mass of the Castle with the flag flying proudly above it, perhaps a quarter of a mile away. The ground sloped down towards it. There was a wide open space of grass with the road winding through, and here and there a noble beech, with which this part of the park is chiefly planted. The ground rose again behind the massive pile, and was once more thick with trees, so that it appeared backed by a mass of delicate purple, which will soon take on that delicious delicate green of young beech leaves, than which there is none more beautiful in all nature, unless it be the emerald green of waves in a blue sea." "I shall look out for that in the next novel," said Mrs. Grant, at this point. "I know that green, but he has always called it translucent before." "The castle is low and spreading, nowhere more than two stories in height, except for the row of dormers in the roof, and in the middle of the mass, where there is a great gateway leading into an inner court, exactly like the gateway of a college. In fact the building resembles an ancient college in many particulars. The garden is enclosed within a stone wall, which continues the front of the building. It is on one side only, and is very beautiful, though I have not yet explored it, and can speak only of a lawn bounded by an arcading of yew, to which access is gained from the long drawing-room where I was received. The stables are in an inner courtyard behind the first. On the side opposite to the garden, in which the room where I am now writing is situated, one looks out straight into the park. "Young Sir Harry took me straight into the room where the ladies of the house were sitting at their needlework. It was a long low room, beautifully furnished with what I should judge to be French furniture chiefly, but with deep chintz-covered easy chairs and sofas which took away from any formal effect it might otherwise have had. Lady Brent and Mrs. Brent were sitting by one of the windows, of which there are a line opening on to a sort of stone built veranda facing the garden that I have mentioned. They rose at once to meet me. Lady Brent, whom I had pictured as rather a dominating old lady, walking possibly with a stick, I was surprised to find not old at all in appearance. She must have married young, and her son, Harry’s father, must have married young, as indeed I afterwards found to have been the case. Wilbraham says that she is still a few years short of sixty, and she does not look much over fifty. She is not tall, but holds herself erect and moves in a stately manner. She is not exactly handsome, but her features are pleasant to the eye, and she has an agreeable smile. She made me welcome in a few words, and I felt that I _was_ welcome, and immediately at home with her.