the moon on a sudden emerged from a bank of cloud and
disclosed the landscape. Mr. Thomasson uttered a cry of relief. Fifty
paces before them the low wall on the right of the lane was broken by a
pillared gateway, whence the dark thread of an avenue trending across
the moonlit flat seemed to point the way to a house.

The tutor pushed the gate open. 'Diana favours you, child,' he said,
with a smirk which was lost on Julia. 'It was well she emerged when she
did, for now in a few minutes we shall be safe under a roof. 'Tis a
gentleman's house too, unless I mistake.'

A more timid or a more suspicious woman might have refused to leave the
road, or to tempt the chances of the dark avenue, in his company. But
Julia, whose thoughts were bitterly employed, complied without thought
or hesitation, perhaps unconsciously. The gate swung to behind them, and
they plodded a hundred yards between the trees arm in arm; then one and
then a second light twinkled out in front. These as they approached were
found to proceed from two windows in the ground floor of a large house.
The travellers had not advanced many paces towards them before the peaks
of three gables rose above them, vandyking the sky and docking the last
sparse branches of the elms.

Mr. Thomasson's exclamation of relief, as he surveyed the building, was
cut short by the harsh rattle of a chain, followed by the roar of a
watch-dog, as it bounded from the kennel; in a second a horrid raving
and baying, as of a score of hounds, awoke the night. The startled tutor
came near to dropping his companion's hand, but fortunately the
threshold, dimly pillared and doubtfully Palladian, was near, and
resisting the impulse to put himself back to back with the girl--for the
protection of his calves rather than her skirts--the reverend gentleman
hurried to occupy it. Once in that coign of refuge, he hammered on the
door with the energy of a frightened man.

When his anxiety permitted him to pause, a voice made itself heard
within, cursing the dogs and roaring for Jarvey. A line of a hunting
song, bawled at the top of a musical voice and ending in a shrill 'View
Halloa!' followed; then 'To them, beauties; to them!' and the crash of
an overturned chair. Again the house echoed with 'Jarvey, Jarvey!' on
top of which the door opened and an elderly man-servant, with his wig
set on askew, his waistcoat unbuttoned, and his mouth twisted into a
tipsy smile, confronted the wanderers.

CHA