The father and son were loth to let them go, and even after the old man had parted from his guests David Winfrith walked on by the side of the low cart, leading the pony down the steep, stone-strewn hill which led to the village, set, as is so often the way in Dorset, in an oasis of trees. As they rounded a sharp corner and came in sight of a large house standing within high walls, surrounded on three sides by elms, but on one side bare and very near to the lonely road, he suddenly said 'Good-bye,' and, turning on his heel, did not stay a moment to gaze after them, as Cecily, looking round, had thought he would. II Penelope checked the pony's inclination to gallop along the short, smooth piece of road which lay before them, and, when actually passing the large house which stood at the beginning of the village, she almost brought him to a standstill. Cecily then saw that the blinds, bright red in colour, of the long row of upper windows--in fact, all those that could be seen above the high wall--were drawn down. 'Look well at that place,' said her companion suddenly, 'and I will tell you why David Winfrith never willingly passes by here when he is staying at Shagisham.' Till that moment Mrs. Robinson had had no intention of telling Cecily anything about this place, or of Winfrith's connection with its solitary occupant, but she wished to escape from her own thoughts, to forget for a moment certain passages in a conversation, the memory of which distressed and shamed her. To attain this end she went further on the road of betrayal, telling that which should not have been told. 'It's a very curious story,' she said, 'and David will never know that I have told it to you.' As she spoke she shook the reins more loosely through her hand, and gave the pony his head.