observed, screwing round in his
seat. "That 'ere's the _Flyin' Bull_, sir, where I be in sarvice, and
it ain't no poison-seller, but a real right down good house."

"All liquor is poison, and every house devoted to the sale of it is a
sinful house," Girdlestone said curtly.

"Don't you say that to my maister," remarked the driver. "He be a big
man wi' a ter'bly bad temper and a hand like a leg o' mutton. Hold up,
will ye!"

The last remark was addressed to the horse, which had stumbled in going
down a sharp incline. They were out of the village by this time, and
the road was lined on either side by high hedges, which threw a dense
shadow over everything. The feeble lamps of the wagonette bored two
little yellow tunnels of light on either side. The man let the reins
lie loose upon the horse's back, and the animal picked out the roadway
for itself. As they swung round from the narrow lane on to a broader
road Kate broke out into a little cry of pleasure.

"There's the sea!" she exclaimed joyfully. The moon had broken from
behind the clouds and glittered on the vast silvery expanse.

"Yes, that's the sea," the driver said, "and them lights down yonder is
at Lea Claxton, where the fisher-folk live; and over there," pointing
with his whip to a long dark shadow on the waters, "is the Oilywoite."

"The what?"

"The Isle of Wight, he means," said Girdlestone. The driver looked at
him reproachfully. "Of course," said he, "if you Lunnon folks knows
more about it than we who are born an' bred in the place, it's no manner
o' use our tryin' to teach you." With this sarcastic comment he withdrew
into himself, and refused to utter another word until the end of their
journey.

It was not long before this was attained. Passing down a deeply rutted
lane, they came to a high stone wall which extended for a couple of
hundred yards. It had a crumbling, decaying appearance, as far as could
be judged in the uncertain light. This wall was broken by a single iron
gate, flanked by two high pillars, each of which was surmounted by some
weather-beaten heraldic device. Passing through they turned up a
winding avenue, with lines of trees on either side, which shot their
branches so thickly above them that they might have been driving through
some sombre tunnel. This avenue terminated in an open space, in the
midst of which towered a great irregular whitewashed building, which was
the old Priory. All below it was swathed in