my memory as to whether I could recall something,
but in vain. At any other time than this I should no doubt have found
the old house a very fascinating one; but not for two minutes
together could my mind dwell upon anything but the amazing situation
in which I found myself. The house was, I saw, built of grey stone,
and as it had seven gables it suggested to me Nathaniel Hawthorne's
famous story, of which my aunt was so fond. Inside I found every room
to be more or less interesting. But what attracted me most, I think,
was a series of large attics in which was a number of enormous oak
beams supporting the antique roof. With the sunlight pouring through
the windows and illuminating almost every corner, the place seemed
cheerful enough, but I could not help thinking how ghostly it must
look on a moonlight night.

'While the thought was in my mind, a strangle sensation came upon me.
I seemed to hear a moan; it came through the door of the large attic
adjoining the one in which I stood, and then I heard a voice that
seemed familiar to me, and yet I could not recall it. It was
repeating in a loud, agonised tone the words of that curse written on
the parchment scroll which I picked up on Raxton sands. I was so
astonished that for a long time I could think of nothing else.

IX

'At five o'clock I was going towards the studio to keep my
appointment when I met Mr. D'Arcy in his broad-brimmed felt hat,
ready and waiting for me to take the proposed walk with him.

'Oh, what a lovely afternoon it was! A Welsh afternoon could not have
been lovelier. In fact, it carried my mind back here. The sun,
shining on the buttercups and the grey-tufted standing grass, made
the meadows look as though covered with a tapestry that shifted from
grey to lavender, and then from lavender to gold, as the soft breeze
moved over it. And many of the birds were still in full song; and
brilliant as was the music of the skylarks, the blackbirds and
thrushes were so numerous that the music falling from the sky seemed
caught and swallowed up by the music rising from the hedgerows and
trees.

'I lingered at one of the gates through which we passed to enjoy the
beauty undisturbed by the motion of my own body.

'"I have often wished," Mr. D'Arcy said, "that I had a tithe of your
passion for Nature, and all your knowledge of Nature. To have been
born in London and to have passed one's youth there is a great loss.
Nature has to be learnt, as art has to