side of the road now, and we were going uphill; for rising out of the
plain there was a sudden low spur of higher ground.

"Is the house at the top?" I asked Gustave.

"Just under the top," said he.

"I shall walk," said I.

The fact is, I had grown intolerably impatient of our slow jog, which had
now sunk to a walk.

We jumped out and strode on ahead, soon distancing our carriage, and
waking echoes with our merry talk.

"I rather wonder they have not come to meet us," said Gustave. "See, there
is the house."

A sudden turn in the road had brought us in sight Of it. It was a rather
small modern Gothic _château_. It nestled comfortably below the hill,
which rose very steeply immediately behind it. The road along which we
were approaching appeared to afford the only access, and no other house
was visible. But, desolate as the spot certainly was, the house itself
presented a gay appearance, for there were lights in every window from
ground to roof.

"She seems to have company," I observed.

"It is that she expects us," answered Gustave. "This illumination is in
our honor."