I had escaped an acquaintance; I should have one more night
in comfort. In the morning, I might either slip away before
Northmour was abroad, or pay him as short a visit as I chose.
But when morning came, I thought the situation so diverting that I
forgot my shyness. Northmour was at my mercy; I arranged a good
practical jest, though I knew well that my neighbour was not the
man to jest with in security; and, chuckling beforehand over its
success, took my place among the elders at the edge of the wood,
whence I could command the door of the pavilion. The shutters were
all once more closed, which I remember thinking odd; and the house,
with its white walls and green venetians, looked spruce and
habitable in the morning light. Hour after hour passed, and still
no sign of Northmour. I knew him for a sluggard in the morning;
but, as it drew on towards noon, I lost my patience. To say the
truth, I had promised myself to break my fast in the pavilion, and
hunger began to prick me sharply. It was a pity to let the
opportunity go by without some cause for mirth; but the grosser
appetite prevailed, and I relinquished my jest with regret, and
sallied from the wood.
The appearance of the house affected me, as I drew near, with
disquietude. It seemed unchanged since last evening; and I had
expected it, I scarce knew why, to wear some external signs of
habitation. But no: the windows were all closely shuttered, the
chimneys breathed no smoke, and the front door itself was closely
padlocked.
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