, mingled with the view and gave
it something of a mysterious interest, in addition to its real charms. There was
a bank here, too, which was a famous one for violets; and as it was a daily
delight of Charley's to gather wild flowers, she took as much to the spot as I
did.
    It would be idle to inquire now why I never went close to the house, or
never went inside it. The family were not there, I had heard on my arrival, and
were not expected. I was far from being incurious or uninterested about the
building; on the contrary, I often sat in this place, wondering how the rooms
ranged, and whether any echo like a footstep really did resound at times, as the
story said, upon the lonely Ghost's Walk. The indefinable feeling with which
Lady Dedlock had impressed me, may have had some influence in keeping me from
the house even when she was absent. I am not sure. Her face and figure were
associated with it, naturally; but I cannot say that they repelled me from it,
though something did. For whatever reason or no reason, I had never once gone
near it, down to the day at which my story now arrives.
    I was resting at my favourite point, after a long ramble, and Charley was
gathering violets at a little distance from me. I had been looking at the
Ghost's Walk lying in a deep shade of masonry afar off, and picturing to myself
the female shape that was said to haunt it, when I became aware of a figure
approaching through the wood. The perspective was so long, and so darkened by
leaves, and the shadows of the branches on the ground made it so much more
intricate to the eye, that at first I could not discern what figure it was. By
little and little, it revealed itself to be a woman's - a lady's - Lady
Dedlock's. She was alone, and coming to where I sat with a much quicker step, I
observed to my surprise, than was usual with her.
    I was fluttered by her being unexpectedly so near (she was almost within
speaking distance before I knew her), and would have risen to continue my walk.
But I could not. I was rendered motionless. Not so much by her hurried gesture
of entreaty, not so much by her quick advance and outstretched hands, not so
much by the great change in her manner, and the absence of her haughty
self-restraint, as by a something in her
