by decidedly
material bangings on the doors and hyper-boisterous Easter greetings.

After breakfast a few of the party went to church, a few into the
nursery to romp with the children, whilst the rest dispersed in
different directions. At luncheon all met again, and there was much
merry-making over the tansy cakes--very foolish, no doubt, but to me at
least very delightful, and perhaps a wise practice, at times, even for
the most prosaic. In the afternoon the Colonel took me for a drive to a
charmingly picturesque village in the Chilterns, whence we did not set
out on our way back till it was twilight.

The Colonel was a good whip, and the horse, though young and rather
high-spirited, was, he said, very dependable on the whole, and had never
caused him any trouble. We spun along at a brisk trot--the last village
separating us from the Hall was past, and we were on a high eminence,
almost within sight of home, when a startling change in the atmosphere
suddenly became apparent--it turned icy cold. I made some sort of
comment to the Colonel, and as I did so the horse shied.

"Hulloa!" I exclaimed. "Does she often do this?"

"No, not often, only when we are on this road about this time," was the
grim rejoinder. "Keep your eyes open and sit tight."

We were now amid scenery of the same desolate type that had so impressed
me the day of my arrival. Gaunt, barren hills, wild, uncultivated
levels, sombre valleys, inhabited only by grotesque enigmatical shadows
that came from Heaven knows where, and hemmed us in on all sides.

A large quarry, half full of water and partly overgrown with brambles,
riveted my attention, and as I gazed fixedly at it I saw, or fancied I
saw, the shape of something large and white--vividly white--rise from
the bottom.

The glimpse I caught of it was, however, only momentary, for we were
moving along at a great pace, and I had hardly seen the last of it
before the quarry was left behind and we were descending a long and
gradual declivity. There was but little wind, but the cold was
benumbing; neither of us spoke, and the silence was unbroken save by the
monotonous patter, patter of the horse's hoofs on the hard road.

We were, I should say, about half-way down the hill, when away in our
rear, from the direction of the quarry, came a loud protracted neigh. I
at once looked round, and saw standing on the crest of the eminence we
had just quitted, and most vividly outlined against the enveloping