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The road from Anglebury to Holmstoke is in general level; but there isone place where a sharp ascent breaks its monotony. Farmers homeward-bound from the former market-town, who trot all the rest of the way, walktheir horses up this short incline.

The next evening, while the sun was yet bright, a handsome new gig, witha lemon-coloured body and red wheels, was spinning westward along thelevel highway at the heels of a powerful mare. The driver was a yeomanin the prime of life, cleanly shaven like an actor, his face being tonedto that bluish-vermilion hue which so often graces a thriving farmer'sfeatures when returning home after successful dealings in the town.Beside him sat a woman, many years his junior--almost, indeed, a girl.Her face too was fresh in colour, but it was of a totally differentquality--soft and evanescent, like the light under a heap of rose-petals.

Few people travelled this way, for it was not a main road; and the longwhite riband of gravel that stretched before them was empty, save of onesmall scarce-moving speck, which presently resolved itself into thefigure of boy, who was creeping on at a snail's pace, and continuallylooking behind him--the heavy bundle he carried being some excuse for, ifnot the reason of, his dilatoriness. When the bouncing gig-party slowedat the bottom of the incline above mentioned, the pedestrian was only afew yards in front. Supporting the large bundle by putting one hand onhis hip, he turned and looked straight at the farmer's wife as though hewould read her through and through, pacing along abreast of the horse.

The low sun was full in her face, rendering every feature, shade, andcontour distinct, from the curve of her little nostril to the colour ofher eyes. The farmer, though he seemed annoyed at the boy's persistentpresence, did not order him to get out of the way; and thus the ladpreceded them, his hard gaze never leaving her, till they reached the topof the ascent, when the farmer trotted on with relief in hislineaments--having taken no outward notice of the boy whatever.

'How that poor lad stared at me!' said the young wife.

'Yes, dear; I saw that he did.'

'He is one of the village, I suppose?'

'One of the neighbourhood. I think he lives with his mother a mile ortwo off.'

'He knows who we are, no doubt?'

'O yes. You must expect to be stared at just at first, my prettyGertrude.'

'I do,--though I think the poor boy may have looked at us in the hope wemight relieve him of his heavy load, rather than from curiosity.'

'O no,' said her husband off-handedly. 'These country lads will carry ahundredweight once they get it on their backs; besides his pack had moresize than weight in it. Now, then, another mile and I shall be able toshow you our house in the distance--if it is not too dark before we getthere.' The wheels spun round, and particles flew from their peripheryas before, till a white house of ample dimensions revealed itself, withfarm-buildings and ricks at the back.

Meanwhile the boy had quickened his pace, and turning up a by-lane somemile and half short of the white farmstead, ascended towards the leanerpastures, and so on to the cottage of his mother.

She had reached home after her day's milking at the outlying dairy, andwas washing cabbage at the doorway in the declining light. 'Hold up thenet a moment,' she said, without preface, as the boy came up.

He flung down his bundle, held the edge of the cabbage-net, and as shefilled its meshes with the dripping leaves she went on, 'Well, did yousee her?'

'Yes; quite plain.'

'Is she ladylike?'

'Yes; and more. A lady complete.'

'Is she young?'

'Well, she's growed up, and her ways be quite a woman's.'

'Of course. What colour is her hair and face?'

'Her hair is lightish, and her face as comely as a live doll's.'

'Her eyes, then, are not dark like mine?'

'No--of a bluish turn, and her mouth is very nice and red; and when shesmiles, her teeth show white.'

'Is she tall?' said the woman sharply.

'I couldn't see. She was sitting down.'

'Then do you go to Holmstoke church to-morrow morning: she's sure to bethere. Go early and notice her walking in, and come home and tell me ifshe's taller than I.'

'Very well, mother. But why don't you go and see for yourself?'

'I go to see her! I wouldn't look up at her if she were to pass mywindow this instant. She was with Mr. Lodge, of course. What did he sayor do?'

'Just the same as usual.'

'Took no notice of you?'

'None.'

Next day the mother put a clean shirt on the boy, and started him off forHolmstoke church. He reached the ancient little pile when the door wasjust being opened, and he was the first to enter. Taking his seat by thefont, he watched all the parishioners file in. The well-to-do FarmerLodge came nearly last; and his young wife, who accompanied him, walkedup the aisle with the shyness natural to a modest woman who had appearedthus for the first time. As all other eyes were fixed upon her, theyouth's stare was not noticed now.

When he reached home his mother said, 'Well?' before he had entered theroom.

'She is not tall. She is rather short,' he replied.

'Ah!' said his mother, with satisfaction.

'But she's very pretty--very. In fact, she's lovely.'

The youthful freshness of the yeoman's wife had evidently made animpression even on the somewhat hard nature of the boy.

'That's all I want to hear,' said his mother quickly. 'Now, spread thetable-cloth. The hare you caught is very tender; but mind that nobodycatches you.--You've never told me what sort of hands she had.'

'I have never seen 'em. She never took off her gloves.'

'What did she wear this morning?'

'A white bonnet and a silver-coloured gownd. It whewed and whistled soloud when it rubbed against the pews that the lady coloured up more thanever for very shame at the noise, and pulled it in to keep it fromtouching; but when she pushed into her seat, it whewed more than ever.Mr. Lodge, he seemed pleased, and his waistcoat stuck out, and his greatgolden seals hung like a lord's; but she seemed to wish her noisy gowndanywhere but on her.'

'Not she! However, that will do now.'

These descriptions of the newly-married couple were continued from timeto time by the boy at his mother's request, after any chance encounter hehad had with them. But Rhoda Brook, though she might easily have seenyoung Mrs. Lodge for herself by walking a couple of miles, would neverattempt an excursion towards the quarter where the farmhouse lay. Neitherdid she, at the daily milking in the dairyman's yard on Lodge's outlyingsecond farm, ever speak on the subject of the recent marriage. Thedairyman, who rented the cows of Lodge, and knew perfectly the tallmilkmaid's history, with manly kindliness always kept the gossip in thecow-barton from annoying Rhoda. But the atmosphere thereabout was fullof the subject during the first days of Mrs. Lodge's arrival; and fromher boy's description and the casual words of the other milkers, RhodaBrook could raise a mental image of the unconscious Mrs Lodge that wasrealistic as a photograph.