Here I saw a change pass upon her face:  it grew almost pallid.  But her large blue eyes were still fixed on mine.

“And it seems to me,” I went on, “that such a chasm made by the uplifting of a house therefrom, is therefore in itself more poetic than if it were even the mouth of an extinct volcano.  For, grand as the motions and deeds of Nature are, terrible as is the idea of the fiery heart of the earth breaking out in convulsions, yet here is something greater; for human will, human thought, human hands in human labour and effort, have all been employed to build this house, making not only the house beautiful, but the place whence it came beautiful too.  It stands on the edge of what Shelley would call its ’antenatal tomb’—­now beautiful enough to be its mother—­filled from generation to generation “—­

Her face had grown still paler, and her lips moved as if she would speak; but no sound came from them.  I had gone on, thinking it best to take no notice of her paleness; but now I could not help expressing concern.

“I am afraid you feel ill, Miss Oldcastle.”

“Not at all,” she answered, more quickly than she had yet spoken.

“This place must be damp,” I said.  “I fear you have taken cold.”

She drew herself up a little haughtily, thinking, no doubt, that after her denial I was improperly pressing the point.  So I drew back to the subject of our conversation.

“But I can hardly think,” I said, “that all this mass of stone could be required to build the house, large as it is.  A house is not solid, you know.”

“No,” she answered.  “The original building was more of a castle, with walls and battlements.  I can show you the foundations of them still; and the picture, too, of what the place used to be.  We are not what we were then.  Many a cottage, too, has been built out of this old quarry.  Not a stone has been taken from it for the last fifty years, though.  Just let me show you one thing, Mr. Walton, and then I must leave you.”

“Do not let me detain you a moment.  I will go at once,” I said; “though, if you would allow me, I should be more at ease if I might see you safe at the top of the stair first.”

She smiled.

“Indeed, I am not ill,” she answered; “but I have duties to attend to.  Just let me show you this, and then you shall go with me back to mamma.”

She led the way to the edge of the pond and looked into it.  I followed, and gazed down into its depths, till my sight was lost in them.  I could see no bottom to the rocky shaft.

“There is a strong spring down there,” she said.  “Is it not a dreadful place?  Such a depth!”

“Yes,” I answered; “but it has not the horror of dirty water; it is as clear as crystal.  How does the surplus escape?”

“On the opposite side of the hill you came up there is a well, with a strong stream from it into the river.”

“I almost wonder at your choosing such a place to read in.  I should hardly like to be so near this pond,” said I, laughing.