dark solemn forms of mountains on the horizon. A few
dappled clouds, fringed with fire, floated high in the green sky. It
all seemed to him to be screening some sacred and mysterious pageant,
which was, as it were, being celebrated out in the west, where the
orange sunset lay dying. He thought of the lonely valleys among the
hills, slowly filling with twilight gloom, the high ridges from which
one could discern the sun sinking in glory over the far-spread flashing
sea with its misty rim. The house loomed up suddenly over the
thickets, with a light or two burning in the windows which pierced the
thick wall.

Within, all was as it had been for many a year; it was a house in which
everything seemed to stand still, the day passing smoothly in a simple
and pleasant routine. He received a very kindly and gentle welcome
from his host, and was pleased to find that the party was of the
quietest--an old friend or two, a widowed daughter of the house, one or
two youthful cousins. Hugh slipped into his place in the household as
if he had never been absent; he established his books in a corner of
the dark library full of old volumes. It was always a pleasure to him
to see his host, a courtly, silent old man, with snow-white hair and
beard, who sate smiling, eating so little that Hugh wondered how he
sustained life, reading for an hour or two, walking a little about the
garden, sitting long in contented meditation, never seeming to be weary
or melancholy. Hugh remembered that, some years before, he had
wondered that any one could live so, neither looking backwards nor
forwards, with no designs or cares or purposes, simply taking each day
as it came with a perfect tranquillity, not overshadowed by the thought
of how few years of life were left him. But now he seemed to
understand it better; it was just the soft close of a kindly and
innocent life, dying like a tree or a flower. The old man liked to
have Hugh as the companion of his morning ramble, showed him many
curious plants and flowers, and spoke often of the reminiscences of his
departed youth with no shadow of desire or regret. At first the
grateful coolness of the place revived Hugh; but the soft, moist
climate brought with it a fatigue of its own, an indolent dejection,
which made him averse to work and even to bodily activity. He took,
however, one or two lonely walks among the mountains. In his listless
mood, he was vexed and disquieted by the contrast between t