hought
Mr. Lovel's eyes overflowed. There was that damned bird again, wailing
like a lost soul. The eeriness of it struck a chill to his heart, so
that if he had been able to think of any refuge he would have set spurs
to his horse and galloped for it in blind terror. He was in the mood in
which men compose poetry, for he felt himself a midget in the grip of
immensities. He knew no poetry, save a few tavern songs; but in
his youth he had had the Scriptures drubbed into him. He remembered
ill-omened texts--one especially about wandering through dry places
seeking rest. Would to Heaven he were in a dry place now!...

The horse sprang aside and nearly threw him. It had blundered against
the stone pillar of a gateway. It was now clear even to Mr. Lovel's
confused wits that he was lost. This might be the road to Tophet, but
it was no road to Brampton. He felt with numbed hands the face of the
gateposts. Here was an entrance to some dwelling, and it stood open.
The path led through it, and if he left the path he would without doubt
perish in a bog-hole. In his desolation he longed for a human face. He
might find a good fellow who would house him; at the worst he would
get direction about the road. So he passed the gateway and entered an
avenue.

It ran between trees which took the force of the downpour, so that it
seemed a very sanctuary after the open moor. His spirits lightened.
The infernal birds had stopped crying, but again he heard the thud of
hooves. That was right, and proved the place was tenanted. Presently
he turned a corner and faced a light which shone through the wet, rayed
like a heraldic star.

The sight gave him confidence, for it brought him back to a familiar
world. He rode straight to it, crossing a patch of rough turf, where a
fallen log all but brought him down. As he neared it the light grew till
he saw its cause. He stood before the main door of a house and it was
wide open. A great lantern, hung from a beam just inside, showed a
doorway of some size and magnificence. And below it stood a servant, an
old man, who at the sight of the stranger advanced to hold his stirrup.

"Welcome, my lord," said the man. "All is ready for you."

The last hour had partially sobered the traveller, but, having now come
safe to port, his drunkenness revived. He saw nothing odd in the open
door or the servant's greeting. As he scrambled to the ground he was
back in his first exhilaration. "My lord!" Well, why not? Thi