She thought she had never seen more desolate country than that which they presently traversed. It seemed to her that they had driven for hours when at last they came to a lodge and a drive gate, blocked by a great cart full of bricks.
A young man in riding clothes was standing by the roadside and addressing vigorous reproof to the driver of the cart, who had knocked against the gate-post with his wheel. This young man stared in mute astonishment at sight of the carriage from the station, and the lady with two or three large trunks. He said nothing, however, and after some delay they passed through and on, along the now almost pitch-dark avenue.
In the centre of the gravel sweep was a place where they were mixing mortar. The men were just striking work for the day, and upon the front doorsteps sacking had been laid down. Within was a scene of the utmost confusion—partially stripped walls, canvas-covered floor, heaps of boards, tubs and trestles.
"Good gracious!" ejaculated the visitor in horror. "Is this what my child is called upon to put up with?"
The driver descended and rang a jangling peal upon the bell. After some delay, Hemming, in a linen coat, with a green baize apron, came in astonishment to the door.
"Is Mrs. Gaunt at home?" demanded the lady regally.
"No, ma'am, she is not."
"Mr. Gaunt, then?"
"No, ma'am; they are both away—and likely to be for some time to come."
"Away? Do you mean that they will not be home any time to-day?"