The
velvet sward of the hill sloped steeply downward from Lady Maulevrier's
drawing-room windows to the road beside the lake, and this road was so
hidden by the wooded screen which bounded her ladyship's grounds that
the lake seemed to lie in the green heart of her gardens, a lovely,
placid lake on summer days, reflecting the emerald hue of the
surrounding hills, and looking like a smooth green meadow, which invited
the foot passenger to cross it.
The house was approached by a winding carriage drive that led up and up
and up from the road beside the lake, so screened and sheltered by
shrubberies and pine woods, that the stranger knew not whither he was
going, till he came upon an opening in the wood, and the stately Italian
garden in front of a massive stone porch, through which he entered a
spacious oak-panelled hall, and anon, descending a step or two, he found
himself in Lady Maulevrier's drawing-room, and face to face with that
divine view of the everlasting hills, the lake shining below him,
bathed in sunlight.
Or if it were the stranger's evil fate to come in wet weather, he saw
only a rain-blotted landscape--the blurred outlines of grey mountain
peaks, scowling at him from the other side of a grey pool.
Pages:
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83