He laughed.
"Have you found yourself hardening since you have been amongst the Fells?"
"Ah, but we have the lake. I always think water softens scenery, and then look at our woods and pastureland. Here is nothing but crag upon crag. Lofty, steep, rocky heights with scanty grass. I think of the Brontës and their writings, especially Emily's. Powerful, but not pleasant. That is like the landscape about us, isn't it?"
"I did not think you were so fanciful. The last time I saw Miss Carrie was at a garden-party at the Duke of N—'s place. She was in radiant spirits, and very pleased with herself and her world. Here we are."
They had come to a little hamlet at the foot of a great mountain, then turned in at some big gates in a high wall, and for two miles drove through an avenue of beeches which still held some of their brown leaves as if defying winter to strip them bare. Then they stopped before a big square stone house. The grounds were untidy and neglected. When they got to the front door, it was opened by an untidy old woman, who looked like a caretaker.
"Is Miss Maybrick in?" she repeated after them dully. "Well, she is, and she isn't. I reckon she's not in to strangers."
"Take her my card," said Justin promptly; "and tell her I have brought my wife to see her. We will wait in the hall."
It was a bare, desolate-looking house. The stone flooring had threadbare rugs upon it. The oak tables and chairs were thick with dust. The old woman went upstairs, and after some considerable time returned saying that Miss Maybrick would see them.
Anstice tried not to see the dust and decay on all sides of them as they went upstairs and along a corridor to a sitting-room at the extreme end.
When the door opened, they found a blazing fire to greet them. The room originally had been handsomely furnished. Thick purple velvet curtains hung from the windows, but they had a film of dust over them, as had also the old Persian carpet underfoot.