field open to a few captious frogs croaking in the ditches. Still as the
atmosphere was, the leaves rustled with that sinister, shivering motion
which proceeds from no outer cause, but is rather an instinctive shudder
of the frail branches, prescient of a coming storm. That stupid clock,
which knew no middle course, and always skipped from one hour to the
other, pointed to seven as the young men passed under the archway; but,
for all that, it was nearer eight.

They found Alicia in the lime-walk, wandering listlessly up and down
under the black shadow of the trees, from which every now and then a
withered leaf flapped slowly to the ground.

Strange to say, George Talboys, who very seldom observed anything, took
particular notice of this place.

"It ought to be an avenue in a churchyard," he said. "How peacefully the
dead might sleep under this somber shade! I wish the churchyard at
Ventnor was like this."

They walked on to the ruined well; and Alicia told them some old legend
connected with the spot--some gloomy story, such as those always
attached to an old house, as if the past were one dark page of sorrow
and crime.

"We want to see the house before it is dark, Alicia," said Robert.

"Then we must be quick." she answered. "Come."

She led the way through an open French window, modernized a few years
before, into the library, and thence to the hall.