They were just leaving the hall, when a thought came to Letty: the moon suddenly appearing above the horizon had put it in her head.
"Oh," she cried, "I know quite a short way home!" and, without waiting any response from her companion, she turned, and led him in an opposite direction, round, namely, by the back of the court, into a field. There she made for a huge oak, which gloomed in the moonlight by the sunk fence parting the grounds. In the slow strength of its growth, by the rounding of its bole, and the spreading of its roots, it had so rent and crumbled the wall as to make through it a little ravine, leading to the top of the ha-ha. When they reached it, before even Tom saw it, Letty turned from him, and was up in a moment. At the top she turned to bid him good night, but there he was, close behind her, insisting on seeing her safe to the house.
"Is this the way you always come?" asked Tom.
"I never was on Durnmelling land before," answered Letty.
"How did you find the short-cut, then?" he asked. "It certainly does not look as if it were much used."
"Of course not," replied Letty. "There is no communication between Durnmelling and Thornwick now. It was all ours once, though, Cousin Godfrey says. Did you notice how the great oak sends its biggest arm over our field?"
"Yes."
"Well, I often sit there under it, when I want to learn my lesson, and can't rest in the house; and that's how I know of the crack in the ha-ha."
She said it in absolute innocence, but Tom laid it up in his mind.
"Are you at lessons still?" he said. "Have you a governess?"