Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (181 page)

The
great
park,
waving
with
separated
trees,
came
abruptly
to
an end.

At
this
step
it
was
yet
a
sward.
But
ten
paces
beyond
it
was
a
rubble of
bush
and
rock,
unkempt
as
a
beggarman's
beard.
Everywhere
there were
bits
of
walls
with
crumbling
ledges
up
which
the
earth
was
gradually
mounting
and
which
the
grass
had
already
conquered.

Under
the
beam
of
that
great
flat
moon
the
place
seemed
wildly beautiful;
with
every
mound
a
glory
of
silver
and
peace,
and
every hollow
a
pit
of
blackness
and
mystery.
A
little
beyond,
perfect, although
in
the
hub
and
centre
of
ruin,
a
vast
edifice
reared
against the
sky,
and
it
shone
white
as
snow
in
the
moonlight
except
where a
projecting
battlement
threw
an
ebon
shade.

"The
old
castle,"
said
she.
"I
have
not
walked
this
way
in
ten
years."

And,
saying
so,
she
walked
to
it.

I
had
never
been
that
way,
and
I
looked
on
that
massive
pile
of silence
almost
with
expectation,
as
tho'
a
door
might
open
and
something
emerge,
or
a
voice
roar
rustily
at
us
from
the
moon-clad
top.

It
was
old,
and
it
was
built
as
they
built
of
old
and
build
no
more; for
the
walls
were
fifteen
feet
thick,
and
time
might
have
sat
before it
through
half-etemity
marvelling
by
what
arts
such
a
solidity
could possibly
be
reduced.

We
paced
about
it,
wondering
at
it,
and
at
the
silence
which
came to
and
from
it;
and
marvelling
that
men
had
with
such
patience
consummated
so
vast
a
labour;
for
the
lives
of
generations
had
passed e'er
this
was
ended
and
secure.

There
was
but
one
door,
and
we
came
on
this
in
our
silent
walk. It
was
swung
to,
but
was
yet
open
just
a
little;
barely
a
foot
of
opening;
a
dense
black
slit
in
the
moonlight.

"I
must
slip
in,"
said
she.

He
smiled
at
her,
catching
again
her
hand.
And
into
his
ear,
but with
her
eyes
fixed
on
mine,
she
said:

"I
want
to
whisper
something
in
the
ear
of
silence
and
desolation."

She
slipped
within;
and,
when
in,
she
pulled
at
his
hand.
With
a look
at
me
half
laughing,
half
apologetic,
he
squeezed
after
her;
and I
was
alone
staring
at
the
bossed
and
plated
door.

There
was
silence
without
and
within,
but
I
found
that
my
eyes were
fixed
on
that
silence
within;
and
from
it,
as
I
expected,
almost as
I
willed,
there
came,
as
though
bred
from
the
silence,
a
sound.
It was
ten
times
more
discreet
than
a
whisper,
and
was
to
be
heard
only by
an
ear
that
knew
it
would
come.