dependent gardens, and here and there, between the verdure-coated
walls, you catch a glimpse of these somewhat stuffy bowers. My
companion and I measured more than once this long expanse,
looking down on the floral figures of the rest of the affair and
on the stoutly-woven tapestry of creeping plants that muffle the
foundations of the huge red pile. I thought of the various images
of old-world gentility which, early and late, must have strolled
in front of it and felt the protection and security of the place.
We peeped through an antique grating into one of the mossy cages
and saw an old lady with a black mantilla on her head, a decanter
of water in one hand and a crutch in the other, come forth,
followed by three little dogs and a cat, to sprinkle a plant. She
would probably have had an opinion on the virtue of Queen
Caroline. Feeling these things together made us quickly, made us
extraordinarily, intimate. My companion seemed to ache with his
impression; he scowled, all gently, as if it gave him pain. I
proposed at last that we should dine somewhere on the spot and
take a late train to town. We made our way out of the gardens
into the adjoining village, where we entered an inn which I
pronounced, very sincerely, exactly what we wanted. Mr. Searle
had approached our board as shyly as if it had been a cold bath;
but, gradually warming to his work, he declared at the end of
half an hour that for the first time in a month he enjoyed his
victuals.

"I'm afraid you're rather out of health," I risked.

"Yes, sir--I'm an incurable."

The little village of Hampton Court stands clustered about the