into a concave mirror, reprojected them into space, all shadowy with
its own ghostliness and gloom? Close by the dial, like the dark way
into regions where time is not, yawned the mouth of the pleached
alley. Beyond that was her window, on which the moon must now be
shining. He entered the alley, and walked softly towards the house.
Suddenly, down the dark tunnel came rushing upon him Dorothy's
mastiff, with a noise as of twenty soft feet, and a growl as if his
throat had been full of teeth--changing to a boisterous welcome
when he discovered who the stranger was. Fearful of disturbing the
household, Richard soon quieted the dog, which was in the habit of
obeying him almost as readily as his mistress, and, fearful of
disturbing sleepers or watchers, approached the house like a thief.
To gain a sight of Dorothy's window he had to pass that of the
parlour, and then the porch, which he did on the grass, that his
steps might be noiseless. But here the dog started from his heel,
and bounded into the porch, leading after him the eyes of Richard,
who thereupon saw what would have else remained undiscovered--two
figures, namely, standing in its deep shadow. Judging it his part,
as a friend of the family, to see who, at so late an hour, and so
near the house, seemed thus to avoid discovery, Richard drew nearer,
and the next moment saw that the door was open behind them, and that
they were Dorothy and a young man.

'The gates will be shut,' said Dorothy.

'It is no matter; old Eccles will open to me at any hour,' was the
answer.

'Still it were well you went without delay,' said Dorothy; and her
voice trembled a little, for she had caught sight of Richard.