Such speculations were not in Miss Horn's way; but she was better
than the loftiest of speculations, and we will follow her. By and
by she came out of the woods, and found herself on the banks of
the Wan Water, a broad, fine river, here talking in wide rippled
innocence from bank to bank, there lying silent and motionless and
gloomy, as if all the secrets of the drowned since the creation of
the world lay dim floating in its shadowy bosom. In great sweeps
it sought the ocean, and the trees stood back from its borders,
leaving a broad margin of grass between, as if the better to see
it go. Just outside the grounds and before reaching the sea, it
passed under a long bridge of many arches--then, trees and grass
and flowers and all greenery left behind, rushed through a waste
of storm heaped pebbles into the world water. Miss Horn followed
it out of the grounds and on to the beach.
Here its channel was constantly changing. Even while she stood
gazing at its rapid rush, its bank of pebbles and sand fell almost
from under her feet. But her thoughts were so busy that she scarcely
observed even what she saw, and hence it was not strange that she
should be unaware of having been followed and watched all the way.
Now from behind a tree, now from a corner of the mausoleum, now
from behind a rock, now over the parapet of the bridge, the mad
laird had watched her. From a heap of shingle on the opposite side
of the Wan Water, he was watching her now.
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