Tumbled-down chimneys and broken tiles, being clambered over by tossing ivy, are pictures to delight the soul.
As she descended from the carriage the girl was tremulous and uncertain of herself and much overpowered by the unbending air of the man-servant who received her as if she were a parcel in which it was no part of his duty to take the smallest interest.

As she mounted the stone steps she caught a glimpse of broad gloom within the threshold, a big, square, dingy hall where some other servants were drawn up in a row.

She had read of something of the sort in English novels, and she was suddenly embarrassed afresh by her realisation of the fact that she did not know what to do and that if she made a mistake Nigel would never forgive her.
An elderly woman came out of a room opening into the hall.

She was an ugly woman of a rigid carriage, which, with the obvious intention of being severely majestic, was only antagonistic.

She had a flaccid chin, and was curiously like Nigel.