St. Martin's Eve: A Novel

· 1887

The dull sombre light of a November afternoon was rapidly giving place to twilight. The day had been wet and cold; and the sodden leaves that strewed the park of one of England's fair domains did not contribute to the cheerfulness of the scene. The mansion belonging to it stood on a gentle eminence, well open to view, and looking boldly down on its lands: a long but not high house of red brick, with many windows; a cheerful house, rising behind a wide and gently sloping lawn, which on this ungenial day gave out as wretched an appearance as did all else of outward nature. But if the weather was rendering the demesne desolate, it seemed not to affect the house itself. Lights were gleaming fro…

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