If the orchard-gate were open, he
could enter there; if not, the wall was easily climbed, as he knew
of old; and he would be among them in an instant.
He dismounted from the chaise, and telling the driver - even that
was not easy in his agitation - to remain behind for a few minutes,
and then to follow slowly, ran on with exceeding swiftness, tried
the gate, scaled the wall, jumped down on the other side, and stood
panting in the old orchard.
There was a frosty rime upon the trees, which, in the faint light
of the clouded moon, hung upon the smaller branches like dead
garlands. Withered leaves crackled and snapped beneath his feet,
as he crept softly on towards the house. The desolation of a
winter night sat brooding on the earth, and in the sky. But, the
red light came cheerily towards him from the windows; figures
passed and repassed there; and the hum and murmur of voices greeted
his ear sweetly.
Listening for hers: attempting, as he crept on, to detach it from
the rest, and half believing that he heard it: he had nearly
reached the door, when it was abruptly opened, and a figure coming
out encountered his. It instantly recoiled with a half-suppressed
cry.
'Clemency,' he said, 'don't you know me?'
'Don't come in!' she answered, pushing him back. 'Go away. Don't
ask me why.
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