"I believe not. And yet it is said the Rochesters have been rather
a violent than a quiet race in their time: perhaps, though, that
is the reason they rest tranquilly in their graves now."
"Yes -- 'after life's fitful fever they sleep well,'" I muttered.
"Where are you going now, Mrs. Fairfax?" for she was moving away.
"On to the leads; will you come and see the view from thence?" I
followed still, up a very narrow staircase to the attics, and thence
by a ladder and through a trap-door to the roof of the hall. I
was now on a level with the crow colony, and could see into their
nests. Leaning over the battlements and looking far down, I
surveyed the grounds laid out like a map: the bright and velvet
lawn closely girdling the grey base of the mansion; the field,
wide as a park, dotted with its ancient timber; the wood, dun and
sere, divided by a path visibly overgrown, greener with moss than
the trees were with foliage; the church at the gates, the road, the
tranquil hills, all reposing in the autumn day's sun; the horizon
bounded by a propitious sky, azure, marbled with pearly white. No
feature in the scene was extraordinary, but all was pleasing. When
I turned from it and repassed the trap-door, I could scarcely see
my way down the ladder; the attic seemed black as a vault compared
with that arch of blue air to which I had been looking up, and to
that sunlit scene of grove, pasture, and green hill, of which the
hall was the centre, and over which I had been gazing with delight.
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