The house was built upon a rounded knoll by the side of the embanked winding river, which ran sluggishly along the edge of the fen; and as the party looked out over the garden and across the fen upon that November night, they seemed to be ashore in the midst of a sea of desolation, which spread beneath the night sky away and away into the gloom.
From the sea, four miles distant, came a low angry roar, which seemed to rouse the wind to shout and shriek back defiance, as it plunged into the pines again, and shook and worried them till it passed on with an angry hiss.
"High-tide, and a big sea yonder," said the squire.

"River must be full up.

Hope she won't come over and wash us away." "Wesh me away, you mean," said Farmer Tallington.

"You're all right up on the Toft.

'Member the big flood, squire ?" "Ay, fifteen years ago, Tallington, when I came down to you in Hickathrift's duck-punt, and we fetched you and Tom's mother out of the top window." "Ay, but it weer a bad time, and it's a good job we don't hev such floods o' watter now." "Ay 'tis," said the squire.