She was walking along the passage to go to him when some impulse impelled her to glance through a window which looked out on the moors and the rocks near the house.
Her eyes had fallen on a shape, shrouded in the obscurity of the rocks not far from the window, which seemed to have some semblance to the motionless figure of a man.

She had stood there for a moment, glancing down intently, but it had not stirred.

If it had human semblance, it seemed to be carved in stone.

She came to the conclusion that she was mistaken.

Experience had taught her what strange shapes the rocks took after nightfall.