For what he might consider as
bad as the fact, was her previous concealment of it by strategy.
But Elfride knew Mrs. Jethway to be her enemy, and to hate her.
It was possible she would do her worst. And should she do it, all
might be over.
Would the woman listen to reason, and be persuaded not to ruin one
who had never intentionally harmed her?
It was night in the valley between Endelstow Crags and the shore.
The brook which trickled that way to the sea was distinct in its
murmurs now, and over the line of its course there began to hang a
white riband of fog. Against the sky, on the left hand of the
vale, the black form of the church could be seen. On the other
rose hazel-bushes, a few trees, and where these were absent, furze
tufts--as tall as men--on stems nearly as stout as timber. The
shriek of some bird was occasionally heard, as it flew terror-
stricken from its first roost, to seek a new sleeping-place, where
it might pass the night unmolested.
In the evening shade, some way down the valley, and under a row of
scrubby oaks, a cottage could still be discerned. It stood
absolutely alone. The house was rather large, and the windows of
some of the rooms were nailed up with boards on the outside, which
gave a particularly deserted appearance to the whole erection.
From the front door an irregular series of rough and misshapen
steps, cut in the solid rock, led down to the edge of the
streamlet, which, at their extremity, was hollowed into a basin
through which the water trickled.
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