young man gazed after
his lady-love.

To follow a person stealthily is not conducive to one's self-respect,
but something in the lady's walk and gesture impelled the young sailor
to follow her. She appeared to be hastening, with some set purpose, and
without any heed of circumstance, towards a part of the grounds where
no house was, no living creature for company, nor even a bench to rest
upon. There was no foot-path in that direction, nor anything to go to,
but the inland cliff that screened the Hall from northeastern winds,
and at its foot a dark pool having no good name in the legends of the
neighbourhood. Even Parson Twemlow would not go near it later than the
afternoon milking of the cows, and Captain Zeb would much rather face
a whole gale of wind in a twelve-foot boat than give one glance at its
dead calm face when the moon like a ghost stood over it.

"She is going towards Corpse-walk pit," thought Scuddy--"a cheerful
place at this time of night! She might even fall into it unawares, in
her present state of distraction. I am absolutely bound to follow her."

Duty fell in with his wishes, as it has a knack of doing. Forgetting his
weariness, he followed, and became more anxious at every step. For the
maiden walked as in a dream, without regard of anything, herself more
like a vision than a good substantial being. To escape Mrs. Stubbard she
had gone upstairs and locked herself in her bedroom, and then slipped
out without changing dress, but throwing a dark mantle over it. This had
fallen off, and she had not cared to stop or think about it, but went on
to her death exactly as she went in to dinner. Her dress of white silk
took the moonlight with a soft gleam like itself, and her clustering
curls (released from fashion by the power of passion) fell, like the
shadows, on her sweet white neck. But she never even asked herself how
she looked; she never turned round to admire her shadow: tomorrow she
would throw no shade, but be one; and how she looked, or what she was,
would matter, to the world she used to think so much of, never more.

Suddenly she passed from the moonlight into the blackness of a lonely
thicket, and forced her way through it, without heed of bruise or rent.
At the bottom of the steep lay the long dark pit, and she stood upon
the brink and gazed into it. To a sane mind nothing could look less
inviting. All above was air and light, freedom of the wind and play of
moon with summer foliage; all bel