day brought them into the cherished, or the prohibited,
county of Somerset, for as such was it dwelt on by turns
in Marianne's imagination; and in the forenoon of the third
they drove up to Cleveland.

Cleveland was a spacious, modern-built house,
situated on a sloping lawn. It had no park, but the
pleasure-grounds were tolerably extensive; and like
every other place of the same degree of importance,
it had its open shrubbery, and closer wood walk,
a road of smooth gravel winding round a plantation,
led to the front, the lawn was dotted over with timber,
the house itself was under the guardianship of the fir,
the mountain-ash, and the acacia, and a thick screen of
them altogether, interspersed with tall Lombardy poplars,
shut out the offices.

Marianne entered the house with a heart swelling
with emotion from the consciousness of being only eighty
miles from Barton, and not thirty from Combe Magna;
and before she had been five minutes within its walls,
while the others were busily helping Charlotte to show
her child to the housekeeper, she quitted it again,
stealing away through the winding shrubberies, now just
beginning to be in beauty, to gain a distant eminence;
where, from its Grecian temple, her eye, wandering over
a wide tract of country to the south-east, could fondly
rest on the farthest ridge of hills in the horizon,
and fancy that from their summits Combe Magna might be seen.