behind her at the ancient housekeeper, who tottered after us with
feeble steps through the halls and passages.

I did not think much of her words. She had always talked oddly, as
Welshwomen will, and though I was very melancholy I am sure I was
not superstitious, and I was certainly not timid. Only, as in a
far-off dream, I seemed to see her standing with the light in her
hand and muttering, "The heavy one--all of lead," and then leading
a little boy through the long corridors to see his father lying
dead in a great easy chair before a smoldering fire. So we went
over the house, and I chose the rooms where I would live; and the
servants I had brought with me ordered and arranged everything, and
I had no more trouble. I did not care what they did provided I was
left in peace and was not expected to give directions; for I was
more listless than ever, owing to the effects of my illness at
college.

I dined in solitary state, and the melancholy grandeur of the vast
old dining-room pleased me. Then I went to the room I had selected
for my study, and sat down in a deep chair, under a bright light,
to think, or to let my thoughts meander through labyrinths of their
own choosing, utterly indifferent to the course they might take.

The tall windows of the room opened to the level of the ground upon
the terrace at the head of the garden. It was in the end of July,
and everything was open, for the weather was warm. As I sat alone
I heard the unceasing splash of the great fountains, and I fell to
thinking of the Woman of the Water. I rose and went out into the
still night, and sat down upon a seat on the terrace, between two
gigantic Italian flower pots. The air was deliciously soft and