The light in the west deepened above the forests; a long, glowing crack
opened between two thunderous clouds, like a hint of hidden hell, firing
the whole sky. And in the blaze the crows winged, two and two, like
witches flying home to the infernal pit, now all ablaze and kindling
coal on coal along the dark sky's sombre brink.

Then the red bars faded on my wall to pink, to ashes; a fleck of rosy
cloud in mid-zenith glimmered and went out, and the round edges of the
world were curtained with the night.

Behind me, Cato struck flint and lighted two tall candles; outside the
lawn, near the stockade, a stable-lad set a conch-horn to his lips,
blowing a deep, melodious cattle-call, and far away I heard them
coming--tin, ton! tin, ton! tinkle!--through the woods, slowly, slowly,
till in the freshening dusk I smelled their milk and heard them lowing
at the unseen pasture-bars.

I turned sharply; the candle-light dazzled me. As I passed Cato, the old
man bowed till his coat-cuffs hung covering his dusky, wrinkled fingers.

"When we go, we go together, Cato," I said, huskily, and so passed on
through the brightly lighted hallway and down the stairs.

Candle-light glimmered on the dark pictures, the rusted circles of arms,
the stags' heads with their dusty eyes. A servant in yellow livery,
lounging by the door, rose from the settle as I appeared and threw open
the door on the left, announcing, "Cap'm Ormond!" in a slovenly fashion
which merited a rebuke from somebody.

The room into which the yokel ushered me appeared to be a library, low