The old carriage left the churchyard by the way it had come and entered once more upon the lane, and turning eastward, drove on between green hedges for about a quarter of a mile, when it reached a massive gate of oak and iron, guarded by a porter’s lodge of stone in the same strong style of building as the sexton’s cottage at the churchyard wall.
A tidy woman come out of the lodge, and seeing the old carriage, with Jonah on the box, she smiled and nodded, and at once opened wide the gates.
“Any one at the manor house, Mistress Dillon?” inquired Jonah.
“Noa, lad; none but t’ housekeeper and t’ servants,” replied the woman, courtesying to “the gentlefolks” as the old carriage passed through the gate and entered the long avenue leading through the park to the house.
This avenue was shaded by rows of gigantic old oak trees on each side, whose branches met and intermingled overhead, so arching the way with a thick roof of foliage.
“Oh, what a beautiful—what a majestic vista!” exclaimed Wynnette, with more enthusiasm than she usually bestowed upon any object.
“It is very fine,” said her father. “There is nothing finer in their way than these old English parks.”
Presently the carriage turned with the avenue in a curve, and suddenly drew up before the manor house, which until that moment had been concealed by the lofty trees around it.
Anglesea Manor was a huge oblong building of some gray stone, supported at its corners by four square towers, each further strengthened by four turrets, all of which added to the architectural beauty of the edifice. There were three rows of lofty windows in the front. The lowest row was divided in the middle by massive oaken doors, opening upon a stone platform reached by seven stone steps.
“Oh-h-h!” breathed Wynnette, as she gazed on the fine old house. “To think that such a palace as this should be the inheritance of such a villain as he!”