'Oh, she'll do that with a great deal of pleasure,' said Roland; 'it's her great topic at present. That's Aspinshaw, over there to the right.'
It was a very pretty house, and somehow managed to escape, even at this dreary season, such dreariness as hung over Thornsett Edge, though it was built of the same grey stone, and had the same moorland background. There was a good deal of ivy about it, and the grounds were less regular and more full of evergreens and shrubs than the Ferriers' garden.
As the two young men walked up the private road they heard from the rear of the house a confused barking of dogs, and above the noise a girl's clear voice, raised in vain endeavour to still the joyful tumult.
'La belle Clare,' Litvinoff spoke softly, raising his hat as though he saw her, and quickening his pace a little.
'Shall we go round this way?' said Roland; 'we don't stand on ceremony with each other down here.'
'By all means,' said Litvinoff, and they turned into the stable-yard, passing down by the laurel hedge that alone divided it from the garden.
'By God! what's that?' cried the Count, suddenly stopping; and then both men sprang through the hedge. No time to go round now, for there had been the sharp report of a gun, a woman's shriek, and a heavy fall.