She sat down among the bushes within the gate, and Clare crept
towards the house. His absence lasted some considerable time, and
when he returned Tess was wildly anxious, not for herself, but for
him. He had found out from a boy that there was only an old woman in
charge as caretaker, and she only came there on fine days, from the
hamlet near, to open and shut the windows. She would come to shut
them at sunset. "Now, we can get in through one of the lower
windows, and rest there," said he.
Under his escort she went tardily forward to the main front, whose
shuttered windows, like sightless eyeballs, excluded the possibility
of watchers. The door was reached a few steps further, and one of
the windows beside it was open. Clare clambered in, and pulled Tess
in after him.
Except the hall, the rooms were all in darkness, and they ascended
the staircase. Up here also the shutters were tightly closed,
the ventilation being perfunctorily done, for this day at least,
by opening the hall-window in front and an upper window behind.
Clare unlatched the door of a large chamber, felt his way across
it, and parted the shutters to the width of two or three inches.
A shaft of dazzling sunlight glanced into the room, revealing heavy,
old-fashioned furniture, crimson damask hangings, and an enormous
four-post bedstead, along the head of which were carved running
figures, apparently Atalanta's race.
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