Eagle--that guard the broad stairway leading to the formal gardens
of Selwoode. The gardens stretch northward to the confines of Peter
Blagden's estate of Gridlington; and for my part--unless it were that
primitive garden that Adam lost--I can imagine no goodlier place.
On this particular forenoon, however, neither Miss Hugonin nor Felix
Kennaston had eyes for its comeliness; silently they braved the
griffins, and in silence they skirted the fish-pond--silver-crinkling
in the May morning--and passed through cloistral ilex-shadowed walks,
and amphitheatres of green velvet, and terraces ample and mellow
in the sunlight, silently. The trees pelted them with blossoms;