The place is not above two miles from
here, and the stream (which we call, in our county dialect,
Glenwith Beck) runs through the ground."
As we walked on, Mr. Garthwaite's manner altered. He became
unusually silent and thoughtful. The mention of Miss Welwyn's
name had evidently called up some recollections which were not in
harmony with his every-day mood. Feeling that to talk to him on
any indifferent subject would be only to interrupt his thoughts
to no purpose, I walked by his side in perfect silence, looking
out already with some curiosity and impatience for a first view
of Glenwith Grange. We stopped at last close by an old church,
standing on the outskirts of a pretty village. The low wall of
the churchyard was bounded on one side by a plantation, and was
joined by a park paling, in which I noticed a small wicket-gate.
Mr. Garthwaite opened it, and led me along a shrubbery path,
which conducted us circuitously to the dwelling-house.
We had evidently entered by a private way, for we approached the
building by the back. I looked up at it curiously, and saw
standing at one of the windows on the lower floor a little girl
watching us as we advanced. She seemed to be about nine or ten
years old. I could not help stopping a moment to look up at her,
her clear complexion and her long dark hair were so beautiful.
And yet there was something in her expression--a dimness and
vacancy in her large eyes--a changeless, unmeaning smile on her
parted lips--which seemed to jar with all that was naturally
attractive in her face; which perplexed, disappointed, and even
shocked me, though I hardy knew why.
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