one fusion of rain just beyond the neglected garden that filled the front
court; while on three sides of the house, and penetrating through every
nook and corner of it, there rose, from depths far below, the roar of the
stream which circled the sandstone rock whereon the Tower was built.

Mrs. Melrose came down late. She descended the stairs slowly, rubbing her
cold hands together, and looking forlornly about her. She wore a dress of
some straw-coloured stuff, too thin for the climate of a Cumbria autumn,
and round her singularly small and fleshless neck, a wisp of black
velvet. The top of the head was rather flat, and the heavy dark hair,
projecting stiffly on either side of the face, emphasized at once the
sharpness of the little bony chin, the general sallowness of complexion,
and the remarkable size and blackness of the eyes. There was something
snakelike about the flat head, and the thin triangular face; an effect
which certainly belied the little lady, for there was nothing malicious
or sinister in her personality.

She had not yet set eyes on her husband, who had risen early, and could
now be heard giving directions to some one in the library to her right--a
carpenter apparently, since there was hammering going on. She supposed
she must find out something about the kitchen and the servants. Anastasia
had brought up her breakfast that morning, with a flushed face, muttering
complaint against the woman downstairs. A terror struck through her. If
Anastasia should desert her--should give notice!

Timidly she pushed open the door of the big kitchen, and prepared to
play the mistress. Mrs. Dixon was standing at the kitchen table with a
pastry-board before her, making a meat pie. She greeted her new mistress
civilly, though guardedly, and went on with what she was doing.