The Silent Woman by Eliza Margaret Jane Humphreys

The sun was shining brightly through the small square window of his room when Rufus Myrthe awoke. He looked round the unfamiliar place with a drowsy bewilderment. His dreams had been strange; a troubled memory mingled with his waking thoughts.

He rose and made a hasty toilet, and then went down the steep, ladder-like stairs to the kitchen. It was tenantless, but a clean cloth was laid on one end of the table, and a cup and earthenware teapot, and a coarse loaf, were placed on it. He wondered if he was to make his own tea. To be sure of the fact he went to the door and looked out. It opened on a paved cobble-stone yard, where the sheep-dog lay basking in the sun. Further on some poultry were scattered about, or perched on the stone fence surrounding the alternate grass, moor, and bog-land that made up the inn-keeper's property. Even in the bright sunlight it looked scarcely less desolate than on the previous night. He saw the sheep grazing on the brown, level wastes, and marvelled what they could find to eat. A cow was tethered in a field beyond, and an antiquated horse kept it company. There was no sign of Moll or her father.