Of one thing he felt sure--that he was more deeply involved than Hartledon or anyone else suspected, perhaps even himself.

The way was charming in fine weather, though less pleasant in winter.

It was by no means a frequented road, and belonged of right to Lord Hartledon only; but it was open to all.

Few chose it when they could traverse the more ordinary way.
The narrow path on the green plain, sheltered by trees, wound in and out, now on the banks of the river, now hidden amidst a portion of the wood.
Altogether it was a wild and lonely pathway; not one that a timid nature would choose on a dark night.

You might sit in the wood, which lay to the left, a whole day through, and never see a soul.
One part of the walk was especially beautiful.