Glued to the spot, they seemed incapable of motion.

Each one was silent as he advanced towards him or her, but as he left each individual, one after another, behind, each in a frenzy shrieked out, "The Squire, the Squire!" As he passed the lady in the widow's weeds, she fell senseless and crosswise before him.

But forced to be immutable in his purpose, Israel, solemnly stepping over her prostrate form, marched deliberately on.
In a few minutes more he had reached the main door of the mansion, and withdrawing the chain and bolt, stood in the open air.

It was a bright moonlight night.

He struck slowly across the open grounds towards the sunken fields beyond.