gigantic trees increased the venerable stillness of its aspect. Ivy and
innumerable creepers covered one side of the house; and long weeds
cumbered the deserted road.

"It is sadly neglected," said Caroline; "and was so, even in the last
owner's life. Mr. Maltravers inherits the place from his mother's uncle.
We may as well enter the house by the private way. The front entrance is
kept locked up."

Winding by a path that conducted into a flower-garden, divided from the
park by a ha-ha, over which a plank and a small gate, rusting off its
hinges, were placed, Caroline led the way towards the building. At this
point of view it presented a large bay window that by a flight of four
steps led into the garden. On one side rose a square, narrow turret,
surmounted by a gilt dome and quaint weathercock, below the architrave of
which was a sun-dial, set in the stonework; and another dial stood in the
garden, with the common and beautiful motto,--

"Non numero horas, nisi serenas!"*

* "I number not the hours, unless sunny."

On the other side of the bay window a huge buttress cast its mass of
shadow. There was something in the appearance of the whole place that
invited to contemplation and repose,--something almost monastic. The
gayety of the teeming spring-time could not divest the spot of a certain
sadness, not displeasing, however, whether to the young, to whom there is
a luxury in the vague sentiment of melancholy, or to those who, having
known real griefs, seek for an anodyne in meditation and memory. The low
lead-coloured door, set deep in the turret, was locked, and the bell