Its only appurtenance was a paled enclosure, there being no garden, the shade of the trees preventing the growth of vegetables.
She advanced to the window whence the rays of light proceeded, and the shutters being as yet unclosed, she could survey the whole interior through the panes.
The room within was kitchen, parlor, and scullery all in one; the natural sandstone floor was worn into hills and dales by long treading, so that none of the furniture stood level, and the table slanted like a desk.

A fire burned on the hearth, in front of which revolved the skinned carcass of a rabbit, suspended by a string from a nail.
Leaning with one arm on the mantle-shelf stood Winterborne, his eyes on the roasting animal, his face so rapt that speculation could build nothing on it concerning his thoughts, more than that they were not with the scene before him.

She thought his features had changed a little since she saw them last.

The fire-light did not enable her to perceive that they were positively haggard.
Grace's throat emitted a gasp of relief at finding the result so nearly as she had hoped.

She went to the door and tapped lightly.
He seemed to be accustomed to the noises of woodpeckers, squirrels, and such small creatures, for he took no notice of her tiny signal, and she knocked again.