They began the new life at Palstrey Manor, which was ancient and most beautiful.

Nothing Walderhurst owned was as perfect an example of olden time beauty, and as wonderful for that reason.

Emily almost wept before the loveliness of it, though it would not have been possible for her to explain or particularise the grounds for her emotion.

She knew nothing whatever of the venerable wonders of the architecture.

To her the place looked like an immense, low-built, rambling fairy palace--the palace of some sleeping beauty during whose hundred years of slumber rich dark-green creepers had climbed and overgrown its walls and towers, enfolding and festooning them with leaves and tendrils and actual branches.