How grim and hoary it looked in the white moonlight! Something of a faint shiver of repulsion ran through Cuthbert's frame as he looked upon the familiar outline of the building.

Was it possible that all but the few last months of his life had been spent there?
It seemed to him that the old life was already like a dim and distant dream, and that the fuller life he had enjoyed since leaving was the only one that had any reality about it.
But he well knew the habits and the sullen ferocity of the grim old man his father, and it was with cautious steps that he approached the walls.

No light burned in any window.

The inmates of the building were doubtless wrapped in sleep.

He well knew his sister's window, and cutting himself a long hazel bough, he gently swept it to and fro across the glass.