A Thorny Path.
Shea closed the door after her, and passed through the large houseplace, full of a ruddy, dancing light and a cheering warmth, out at the open door, into the drear October twilight. The lake was rougher now, and its livid surface was covered with flashing specks of foam. The weird whisper from Raydaleside had grown into a long shrill shriek – a prolonged storm-cry. All else was deathly still. Mechanically, as she passed the windows of the old house, she glanced towards them, and saw that ruddy light, that cheering warmth within. Her heart was nigh to bursting. She felt bewildered, battered down by what had taken place. It was all so incredible, so inexplicable – that she had been thrust out, desired never to darken those doors again, called by opprobrious names, there – within those 74beloved walls, beneath that happy roof! It was like a mortal blow. Still stunned by this stroke, she passed almost automatically out of the garden, under the old archway, through the farmyard, without returning, or even hearing the greeting of the herd, who said: