The house of Uther

[ANA PUERTA]

DURING the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the winter, with the wind blew hard, cold and sharp, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a monotonous and lonely road. Suddlenly the night drew on, I found myself in front of the melanchoy House of Uther. I know not how it was but I found my self knocking on the door.