Possessed of these advantages, at starting, Windygates, nevertheless,
went the road to ruin in due course of time. The curse of litigation
fell on house and lands. For more than ten years an interminable lawsuit
coiled itself closer and closer round the place, sequestering it from
human habitation, and even from human approach. The mansion was closed.
The garden became a wilderness of weeds. The summer-house was choked up
by creeping plants; and the appearance of the creepers was followed by
the appearance of the birds of night.

For years the Owls lived undisturbed on the property which they had
acquired by the oldest of all existing rights--the right of taking.
Throughout the day they sat peaceful and solemn, with closed eyes, in
the cool darkness shed round them by the ivy. With the twilight they
roused themselves softly to the business of life. In sage and silent
companionship of two, they went flying, noiseless, along the quiet lanes
in search of a meal. At one time they would beat a field like a setter
dog, and drop down in an instant on a mouse unaware of them. At another
time--moving spectral over the black surface of the water--they would
try the lake for a change, and catch a perch as they had caught the
mouse. Their catholic digestions were equally tolerant of a rat or an
insect. And there were moments, proud moments, in their lives, when they
were clever enough to snatch a small bird at roost off his perch. On
those occasions the sense of superiority which the large bird feels
every where over the small, warmed their cool blood, and set them
screeching cheerfully in the stillness of the night.

So, for years, the Owls slept their happy sleep by day, and found their
comfortable meal when darkness fell. They had come, with the creepers,
into possession of the summer-house. Consequently, the creepers were a
part of the constitution of the summer-house. And consequently the Owls