Two on a Tower | Page 5

anything that would in some
measure disperse an almost killing ennui. She would have welcomed
even a misfortune. She had heard that from the summit of the pillar
four counties could be seen. Whatever pleasurable effect was to be
derived from looking into four counties she resolved to enjoy to-day.
The fir-shrouded hill-top was (according to some antiquaries) an old
Roman camp,--if it were not (as others insisted) an old British castle, or
(as the rest swore) an old Saxon field of Witenagemote,-- with remains
of an outer and an inner vallum, a winding path leading up between
their overlapping ends by an easy ascent. The spikelets from the trees
formed a soft carpet over the route, and occasionally a brake of
brambles barred the interspaces of the trunks. Soon she stood
immediately at the foot of the column.
It had been built in the Tuscan order of classic architecture, and was
really a tower, being hollow with steps inside. The gloom and solitude
which prevailed round the base were remarkable. The sob of the
environing trees was here expressively manifest; and moved by the
light breeze their thin straight stems rocked in seconds, like inverted
pendulums; while some boughs and twigs rubbed the pillar's sides, or
occasionally clicked in catching each other. Below the level of their
summits the masonry was lichen-stained and mildewed, for the sun
never pierced that moaning cloud of blue-black vegetation. Pads of
moss grew in the joints of the stone-work, and here and there
shade-loving insects had engraved on the mortar patterns of no human
style or meaning; but curious and suggestive. Above the trees the case
was different: the pillar rose into the sky a bright and cheerful thing,
unimpeded, clean, and flushed with the sunlight.
The spot was seldom visited by a pedestrian, except perhaps in the
shooting season. The rarity of human intrusion was evidenced by the
mazes of rabbit-runs, the feathers of shy birds, the exuviae of reptiles;
as also by the well-worn paths of squirrels down the sides of trunks,
and thence horizontally away. The fact of the plantation being an island
in the midst of an arable plain sufficiently accounted for this lack of
visitors. Few unaccustomed to such places can be aware of the
insulating effect of ploughed ground, when no necessity compels

people to traverse it. This rotund hill of trees and brambles, standing in
the centre of a ploughed field of some ninety or a hundred acres, was
probably visited less frequently than a rock would have been visited in
a lake of equal extent.
She walked round the column to the other side, where she found the
door through which the interior was reached. The paint, if it had ever
had any, was all washed from the wood, and down the decaying surface
of the boards liquid rust from the nails and hinges had run in red stains.
Over the door was a stone tablet, bearing, apparently, letters or words;
but the inscription, whatever it was, had been smoothed over with a
plaster of lichen.
Here stood this aspiring piece of masonry, erected as the most
conspicuous and ineffaceable reminder of a man that could be thought
of; and yet the whole aspect of the memorial betokened forgetfulness.
Probably not a dozen people within the district knew the name of the
person commemorated, while perhaps not a soul remembered whether
the column were hollow or solid, whether with or without a tablet
explaining its date and purpose. She herself had lived within a mile of it
for the last five years, and had never come near it till now.
She hesitated to ascend alone, but finding that the door was not
fastened she pushed it open with her foot, and entered. A scrap of
writing-paper lay within, and arrested her attention by its freshness.
Some human being, then, knew the spot, despite her surmises. But as
the paper had nothing on it no clue was afforded; yet feeling herself the
proprietor of the column and of all around it her self-assertiveness was
sufficient to lead her on. The staircase was lighted by slits in the wall,
and there was no difficulty in reaching the top, the steps being quite
unworn. The trap-door leading on to the roof was open, and on looking
through it an interesting spectacle met her eye.
A youth was sitting on a stool in the centre of the lead flat which
formed the summit of the column, his eye being applied to the end of a
large telescope that stood before him on a tripod. This sort of presence
was unexpected, and the lady started back into the shade of the opening.
The only effect produced upon him by her footfall was an impatient
wave of the hand, which he did