It was to these remote and somewhat singular surroundings that
there approached, on the evening of a bland autumn day, along the
winding road which followed the little stream, the great coach of
the master of Tallwoods, drawn by four blooded carriage horses,
weary, mud-stained and flecked with foam. At the end of the
valley, where the road emerged from its, hidden course among the
cliffs, the carriage now halted. Dunwody himself sprang down from
the driver's seat where he had been riding in order to give the
occupants of the coach the more room. He approached the window,
hat in hand.

"My dear lady," said he, "this is the end of our journey. Yonder
is my home. Will you not look at it?"

It was a pale and languid face which greeted him, the face of a
woman weary and even now in tears. Hastily she sought to conceal
these evidences of her distress. It was the first time he had seen
her weeping. Hitherto her courage had kept her cold and defiant,
else hot and full of reproofs. This spectacle gave him concern.
His face took on a troubled frown.

"Come now, do not weep, my dear girl,--anything but that."

"What, then, is it you would say?" she demanded. "It makes little
difference to me where you are taking me."

He threw open the coach door and extended a hand to aid her in
alighting. "Suppose we walk up from here," he said. "I know you
are tired by the ride. Besides," he added, with pride, "I want to
show you Tallwoods."

Scarce touching his hand, she stepped down. Dunwody motioned to
the driver to advance, and in spite of the protests of the maid
Jeanne, thus left alone within, the coach rolled on up the driveway
ahead of them.

It was in fact a beautiful prospect which lay before the travelers
thus arrived. The sun was low in the west, approaching the rim of
the hills, and its level rays lighted the autumn foliage, crossed
the great trees, brightened the tall white pillars. It even
illuminated the grounds beyond, so that quite through the body of
the house itself its golden light could be seen on the farther
slopes, framing the quaint and singular picture thus set apart.
All around rose the wide cup of the valley, its sides as yet
covered by unbroken decoration of vivid or parti-colored foliage.
Here and there the vivid reds of the wild sumac broke out in riot;
framed lower in the scale were patches of berry vines touched by
the frost; while now and again a maple lifted aloft a fan of clean
sc