He then watched Charles down the rambling village street until he was out of sight.
It was a long walk--more than a mile--before Charles reached the white fence and the group of trees which shielded the house behind dark-green foliage.

He caught a glimpse of partly shuttered windows peeping through this leafy screen, but it was not until he had passed through the trees that he had a clear view of the house.
The place was dreary and dilapidated, with a partly shuttered front.

The green-stained walls and a mask of ivy gave the place a resemblance to a large ivy-grown tomb.

Charles's spirits were depressed as he looked at it.
There was something so wan and melancholy in its appearance that his high anticipations rapidly faded.

In the face of that reality he could no longer picture a silver-haired gracious old lady welcoming Sisily with tears in her eyes for the sake of her dead mother.