The silence and gloom of the great house, so grateful and impressive in the ardent summer, began to weigh upon him under this shadow of an overcast sky.

He walked to the window and gazed out on the cloister-like veranda.

A melancholy willow at an angle of the stables seemed to be wringing its hands in the rising wind.

He turned for relief to the dim fire that flickered like a votive taper in the vault-like hearth, and drew a chair towards it.

In spite of the impatience and preoccupation of a lover, he found himself again and again recurring to the story he had just heard, until the vengeful spirit of the murdered Doctor seemed to darken and possess the house.