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A
brougham
stood
on
the
road
before
the
little
outside
platform
.
Mary
saw
that
it
was
a
smart
carriage
and
that
it
was
a
smart
footman
who
helped
her
in
.
His
long
waterproof
coat
and
the
waterproof
covering
of
his
hat
were
shining
and
dripping
with
rain
as
everything
was
,
the
burly
station
-
master
included
.
When
he
shut
the
door
,
mounted
the
box
with
the
coachman
,
and
they
drove
off
,
the
little
girl
found
herself
seated
in
a
comfortably
cushioned
corner
,
but
she
was
not
inclined
to
go
to
sleep
again
.
She
sat
and
looked
out
of
the
window
,
curious
to
see
something
of
the
road
over
which
she
was
being
driven
to
the
queer
place
Mrs
.
Medlock
had
spoken
of
.
She
was
not
at
all
a
timid
child
and
she
was
not
exactly
frightened
,
but
she
felt
that
there
was
no
knowing
what
might
happen
in
a
house
with
a
hundred
rooms
nearly
all
shut
up
—
a
house
standing
on
the
edge
of
a
moor
.
“
What
is
a
moor
?
”
she
said
suddenly
to
Mrs
.
Medlock
.
“
Look
out
of
the
window
in
about
ten
minutes
and
you
’
ll
see
,
”
the
woman
answered
.
“
We
’
ve
got
to
drive
five
miles
across
Missel
Moor
before
we
get
to
the
Manor
.
You
won
’
t
see
much
because
it
’
s
a
dark
night
,
but
you
can
see
something
.
”
Mary
asked
no
more
questions
but
waited
in
the
darkness
of
her
corner
,
keeping
her
eyes
on
the
window
.
The
carriage
lamps
cast
rays
of
light
a
little
distance
ahead
of
them
and
she
caught
glimpses
of
the
things
they
passed
.
After
they
had
left
the
station
they
had
driven
through
a
tiny
village
and
she
had
seen
whitewashed
cottages
and
the
lights
of
a
public
house
.
Then
they
had
passed
a
church
and
a
vicarage
and
a
little
shop
-
window
or
so
in
a
cottage
with
toys
and
sweets
and
odd
things
set
out
for
sale
.
Then
they
were
on
the
highroad
and
she
saw
hedges
and
trees
.
After
that
there
seemed
nothing
different
for
a
long
time
—
or
at
least
it
seemed
a
long
time
to
her
.
At
last
the
horses
began
to
go
more
slowly
,
as
if
they
were
climbing
up
-
hill
,
and
presently
there
seemed
to
be
no
more
hedges
and
no
more
trees
.
She
could
see
nothing
,
in
fact
,
but
a
dense
darkness
on
either
side
.
She
leaned
forward
and
pressed
her
face
against
the
window
just
as
the
carriage
gave
a
big
jolt
.
“
Eh
!
We
’
re
on
the
moor
now
sure
enough
,
”
said
Mrs
.
Medlock
.
The
carriage
lamps
shed
a
yellow
light
on
a
rough
-
looking
road
which
seemed
to
be
cut
through
bushes
and
low
-
growing
things
which
ended
in
the
great
expanse
of
dark
apparently
spread
out
before
and
around
them
.
A
wind
was
rising
and
making
a
singular
,
wild
,
low
,
rushing
sound
.
“
It
’
s
—
it
’
s
not
the
sea
,
is
it
?
”
said
Mary
,
looking
round
at
her
companion
.
