It was not yet eleven o'clock, and as he did not want to see the ladies of the family so soon, he determined to go down into the steep glen and look about him.
He had no doubt now that to this place the superstitious story belonged.
First, he skirted it all about.

From above it was nearly as round as a cup, and as deep in proportion to its size.

The large old trees had been left, and appeared almost to fill it up, their softly rounded heads coming to within three feet of the level where he stood.

All the mother birds--rooks, jays, thrushes, and pigeons--were plainly in view under him, as they sat brooding on their nests among the topmost twigs, and there was a great cawing and crowing of the cock-birds while they flew about and fed their mates.

The leaves were not out; their buds only looked like green eggs spotting the trees, excepting that here and there a horse-chestnut, forwarder than its brethren, was pushing its crumpled foliage out of the pale-pink sheath.