But my eye had already discovered the low-built rambling house on the high banks of the river, well in the distance, and had recognized it at once.
Leaving my companion at the next turn in the road I walked hurriedly on, and when I had reached the big iron gate I stopped and peered through it.

A gravel roadway, now overgrown with weeds, led from the gate to the front of the house, which stood facing me.

It was built entirely of wood and consisted of four wings (at least there were no others visible) evidently enclosing a quadrangular courtyard, the rear wings being lower than those in front, and hidden by the latter from the view of one standing at the gate as I was.

It was only at a distance that one could see their roofs above the enclosure.

There was but one line of windows along the front, but there was an oriel just under the peak of the main building, and I could see a skylight here and there upon the roofs.
The blinds were closed and there was no sign of life about the house--evidently planned with hospitable intentions, but now silent and forbidding.