CHAPTER XXXIII

_THE WINDMILL WOOD_


I had not time to explore this noble old house as my curiosity prompted;
for Milly was in such a fuss to set out for the 'blackberry dell' that I
saw little more than just so much as I necessarily traversed in making my
way to and from my room.

The actual decay of the house had been prevented by my dear father; and
the roof, windows, masonry, and carpentry had all been kept in repair.
But short of indications of actual ruin, there are many manifestations of
poverty and neglect which impress with a feeling of desolation. It was
plain that not nearly a tithe of this great house was inhabited; long
corridors and galleries stretched away in dust and silence, and were
crossed by others, whose dark arches inspired me in the distance with an
awful sort of sadness. It was plainly one of those great structures in
which you might easily lose yourself, and with a pleasing terror it
reminded me of that delightful old abbey in Mrs. Radcliffe's romance, among
whose silent staircases, dim passages, and long suites of lordly, but
forsaken chambers, begirt without by the sombre forest, the family of La
Mote secured a gloomy asylum.

My cousin Milly and I, however, were bent upon an open-air ramble, and
traversing several passages, she conducted me to a door which led us out
upon a terrace overgrown with weeds, and by a broad flight of steps we
descended to the level of the grounds beneath. Then on, over the short
grass, under the noble trees, we walked; Milly in high good-humour,
and talking away volubly, in her short garment, navvy boots, and a