sounds
I have mentioned--the crackling of twigs, the roll of a pebble, the sound
of some rustle in the dead leaves, or creeping creature on the
grass--were audible when you listened, all mysterious enough when your
mind is disengaged, but to me cheering now as signs of the livingness of
nature, even in the death of the frost. As we stood still there came up
from the trees in the glen the prolonged hoot of an owl. Bagley started
with alarm, being in a state of general nervousness, and not knowing what
he was afraid of. But to me the sound was encouraging and pleasant, being
so comprehensible.

"An owl," I said, under my breath. "Y--es, Colonel," said Bagley, his
teeth chattering. We stood still about five minutes, while it broke into
the still brooding of the air, the sound widening out in circles, dying
upon the darkness. This sound, which is not a cheerful one, made me
almost gay. It was natural, and relieved the tension of the mind. I moved
on with new courage, my nervous excitement calming down.

When all at once, quite suddenly, close to us, at our feet, there broke
out a cry. I made a spring backwards in the first moment of surprise and
horror, and in doing so came sharply against the same rough masonry and
brambles that had struck me before. This new sound came upwards from the
ground,--a low, moaning, wailing voice, full of suffering and pain. The
contrast between it and the hoot of the owl was indescribable,--the one
with a wholesome wildness and naturalness that hurt nobody; the other, a
sound that made one's blood curdle, full of human misery. With a great
deal of fumbling,--for in spite of everything I could do to keep up my
courage my hands shook,--I managed to remove the slide of my lantern. The
light leaped out like something living, and made the place visible in a
moment. We were what would have been inside the ruined building had
anything remained but the gable-wall which I have described. It was close
to us, the vacant door-way in it going out straight into the blackness
outside. The light showed the bit of wall, the ivy glistening upon it in
clouds of dark green, the bramble-branches waving, and below, the open
door,--a door that led to nothing. It was from this the voice came which
died out just as the light flashed upon this strange scene. There was a
moment's silence, and then it broke forth again. The sound was so near,
so penetrating, so pitiful, that, in the nervous start I gave, the light
fell