ar intervals with
plots of flowers--dahlias, michaelmas daisies--no longer in their first
bloom--chrysanthemums, etc. Beyond the lawn, the house, and beyond that
again, and on either side, big, old-fashioned gardens full of
fruit--fruit of all kinds, some, such as grapes and peaches, in monster
green-houses, and others--luscious pears, blenheim oranges, golden
pippins, etc.--in rich profusion in the open, the whole encompassed by a
high and solid brick wall, topped with a bed of mortar and broken glass.
The house, which was built, or, rather, faced with split flints, and
edged and buttressed with cut grey stone, had a majestic but gloomy
appearance. Its front, lofty and handsome, was somewhat castellated in
style, two semicircular bows, or half-moons, placed at a suitable
distance from each other, rising from the base to the summit of the
edifice; these were pierced, at every floor, with rows of
stone-mullioned windows, rising to the height of four or five stories.
The flat wall between had larger windows, lighting the great hall,
gallery, and upper apartments. These windows were abundantly ornamented
with stained glass, representing the arms, honours, and alms-deeds of
the Wimpole family.

"The towers, half included in the building, were completely circular
within, and contained the winding stair of the mansion; and whoso
ascended them, when the winter wind was blowing, seemed rising by a
tornado to the clouds. Midway between the towers was a heavy stone
porch, with a Gothic gateway, surmounted by a battlemented parapet, made
gable fashion, the apex of which was garnished by a pair of dolphins,
rampant and antagonistic, whose corkscrew tails seemed contorted by the
last agonies of rage convulsed.

"The porch doors thrown open to receive me, led into a hall, wide,
vaulted and lofty, and decorated here and there with remnants of
tapestry and grim portraits of the Wimpoles. One picture in particular
riveted my attention. Hung in an obscure corner, where the light rarely
penetrated, it represented the head and shoulders of a young man with a
strikingly beautiful face--the features small and regular like those of
a woman--the hair yellow and curly. It was the eyes that struck me
most--they followed me everywhere I went with a persistency that was
positively alarming. There was something in them I had never seen in
canvas eyes before, something deeper and infinitely more intricate than
could be produced by mere paint--some