It was a silent and beautiful world into which she stepped. The Abbey
was still asleep, no sound came from the servants' quarters at present,
nor the clink of a pail-handle from the stables. If they were waking in
the village yonder, they were welcoming the new day in silence.
Barbara's footfall on the stone flags of the terrace rang strangely loud
in the morning air, and she went slowly, pausing to look across the
woods and down into the stream. Hidden men might still be watching, or
someone, whose night had been as wakeful as her own, might see her from
one of the windows. She must act as though she had no thought beyond the
full enjoyment of the early morning. Slowly, and with many pauses, she
made her way towards the ruins, and passed in after standing at the door
absorbed in contemplation of the beauty of the scene about her. She
hummed the tune of a little ballad to herself, and sat down on the first
convenient piece of fallen masonry. If men were watching this place she
would give them ample opportunity to ask what her business there might
be. Not a movement, not a sound disturbed her. The door into the tower
stood open; she wondered what had become of the men who had groaned last
night, and must have fallen on the narrow stairs; and she shuddered a
little at the thought of some hastily contrived grave, quite close to
her, perchance.
Pages:
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217