We returned by a less direct route, but only at one point was the path
so steep as that by which we had descended. This brought us out on a
road above and about a mile to the south of Cray's Folly. At one point,
through a gap in the trees, I found myself looking down at the gray
stone building in its setting of velvet lawns and gaily patterned
gardens. A faint mist hovered like smoke over the grass.
Five minutes later we passed a queer old Jacobean house, so deeply
hidden amidst trees that the early morning sun had not yet penetrated
to it, except for one upstanding gable which was bathed in golden
light. I should never have recognized the place from that aspect, but
because of its situation I knew that this must be the Guest House. It
seemed very gloomy and dark, and remembering how I was pledged to call
upon Mr. Colin Camber that day, I apprehended that my reception might
be a cold one.
Presently we left the road and cantered across the valley meadows, in
which I had walked on the previous day, reentering Cray's Folly on the
south, although we had left it on the north. We dismounted in the
stable-yard, and I noted two other saddle horses in the stalls, a pair
of very clean-looking hunters, as well as two perfectly matched ponies,
which, Jim informed me, Madame de Staemer sometimes drove in a chaise.
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