"Does the Earl live alone?"
"Well, so to speak, he is alone. There's the visitors, of course; but they come and they go, none of them stay more than a day or two. It's a pity he hasn't got a son or a daughter to keep him company; isn't it now?"
"You like him?" asked Fortescue.
"Yes, we like t' Earl well enough; he's a bit hard sometimes, so folks say."
"But we're mighty sorry for him," said the old man; "he looks that wretched sometimes, my Tom says. Tom is footman up t' Castle. Now, sir, you look ahead and you'll see t' Castle up on t' hill."
Captain Fortescue looked, and he saw before him the most beautiful old castle he had ever beheld. It was built of grey stone, which bore the marks of age, though not of decay. Its mullioned windows had looked out for centuries over the beautifully wooded park, for the Castle stood on such high ground that it commanded a view of all the surrounding country; and the trees in the avenue which led up to it were many of them even older than the Castle itself.
Through this avenue of quaint oak trees Captain Fortescue walked, when he had left the 'bus at the great entrance gates. He lost sight of the Castle as soon as he entered the avenue, but he gazed with the greatest admiration on the loveliness which met his eye at every turn. Now and again there was a break in the trees, and he looked down a peaceful glade where deer were feeding in the shade of the silver birch wood; or he stopped for a few moments to watch a busy little stream which ran by the side of the road, and then disappeared beneath a rustic bridge into the depths of the woodland beyond.
The trees were putting on their autumn garb; the squirrels were running up the trees, busy in secreting the nuts and corn for their winter store; rabbits were scampering across the road to their holes in the mossy bank; a cock pheasant in his plumage was strutting along the road before him; and the whole place was alive with birds, which were singing gaily in the oaks overhead.
Then, as he drew near the Castle, he came upon an extensive lake, dotted with islands and surrounded by a plantation of lovely shrubs and ornamental trees. On this lake the swans were swimming gracefully in the sunshine of that autumn afternoon; the fish were splashing in the water; a covey of wild ducks had taken wing and were flying over the avenue; a heron stood at the edge of the water and was hunting for frogs. There was life and movement everywhere.
He looked at the Castle, and he marvelled at its beauty. He had thought Grantley Castle a fine mansion, but that was far more modern, and would not bear comparison for a moment with the ancestral home of Lord Derwentwater.