Two minutes walking at speed brought me to a light wooden bridge spanning a stream.

I crossed this, and, as the wood opened, saw before me first a wide, pleasant meadow, and beyond this a terrace.

On the terrace, pressed upon on three sides by thick woods, stood a grey mansion, with the corner tourelles, steep, high roofs, and round balconies, that men loved and built in the days of the first Francis.
It was of good size, but wore a gloomy aspect.

A great yew hedge, which seemed to enclose a walk or bowling-green, hid the ground floor of the east wing from view, while a formal rose garden, stiff even in neglect, lay in front of the main building.

The west wing, of which the lower roofs fell gradually away to the woods, probably contained the stables and granaries.
I stood a moment only, but I marked all, and noted how the road reached the house, and which windows were open to attack; then I turned and hastened back.