Crossing the curved stone bridge which arched the dwindling torrent, the Colonel led his friend through several dismal streets until they emerged into an open space, to see before them a high wall built of irregular blocks of stone, covered with mosses and grasses and lichen. The massive wooden gates, which afforded entrance into the domain, stood wide open, indicating, like the doors of the Janus temple, that the Hests were at peace with their neighbours. Passing through these the visitors walked up a gloomy avenue, where the branches of the trees met overhead, and came unexpectedly upon a square stone house, the appearance of which was similar to that of the encircling wall. There were absolutely no pretensions to architectural beauty, and the mansion looked as though it had grown out of the damp, fecund ground, where rank grasses grew in profusion. Above was the slightly sloping bank of the moorland, which here was almost perpendicular, and it threw a heavy shade over the frowning dwelling, which suited its grim looks. It was two storey, with twelve windows in the front, six on either side, and three in each storey. In the centre was the door, without a porch and without steps. Only a broad flagstone formed the threshold. The trees grew up nearly to this, and there was merely a narrow gravelled path between the luxuriant grasses and the walls of the house. So amazingly dismal a dwelling Vernon had never set eyes on, and he uttered an exclamation when he beheld the desolation. "It's the very worst place Ida could have come to," he said in high displeasure. "What could Miss Hest have been thinking of, to ask her to live in this vault." "Ah, she will be better up on the heights in my Italian villa, Vernon." "That is if she will come," remarked the other gloomily, for the sombre situation and ascetic looks of the Hest mansion made his spirits sink to zero. Their approach had been seen, for scarcely had they set foot on the flagstone, and before they had time to raise a hand to the massive iron knocker, which was covered with rust, than the door was opened by a fat-faced, stupid girl dressed in brown but with a tolerably neat cap and apron. Without inquiring their business and without speaking she signed that the two gentlemen should enter, and conducted them to a room to the left of the cheerless hall. Here she intimated that they were to wait and that the mistress would soon come to them, after which she retired sullenly and closed the door after her. What with her looks and the gloom of the room and the closing of the door, the visitors felt as though they had been bestowed in a dungeon. Anything more dismal can scarcely be conceived.