The road from Anglebury to Holmstoke is in general level; but thereis one place where a sharp ascent breaks its monotony. Farmershomeward-bound from the former market-town, who trot all the rest ofthe way, walk their horses up this short incline.

　　The next evening, while the sun was yet bright, a handsome new gig,with a lemon-coloured body and red wheels, was spinning westwardalong the level highway at the heels of a powerful mare. The driverwas a yeoman in the prime of life, cleanly shaven like an actor, hisface being toned to that bluish-vermilion hue which so often gracesa thriving farmer's features when returning home after successfuldealings in the town. Beside him sat a woman, many years hisjunior--almost, indeed, a girl. Her face too was fresh in colour,but it was of a totally different quality--soft and evanescent, likethe light under a heap of rose-petals.

　　Few people travelled this way, for it was not a main road; and thelong white riband of gravel that stretched before them was empty,save of one small scarce-moving speck, which presently resolveditself into the figure of boy, who was creeping on at a snail'space, and continually looking behind him--the heavy bundle hecarried being some excuse for, if not the reason of, hisdilatoriness. When the bouncing gig-party slowed at the bottom ofthe incline above mentioned, the pedestrian was only a few yards infront. Supporting the large bundle by putting one hand on his hip,he turned and looked straight at the farmer's wife as though hewould read her through and through, pacing along abreast of thehorse.

　　The low sun was full in her face, rendering every feature, shade,and contour distinct, from the curve of her little nostril to thecolour of her eyes. The farmer, though he seemed annoyed at theboy's persistent presence, did not order him to get out of the way;and thus the lad preceded them, his hard gaze never leaving her,till they reached the top of the ascent, when the farmer trotted onwith relief in his lineaments--having taken no outward notice of theboy 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 mileor two 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 thehope we might relieve him of his heavy load, rather than fromcuriosity.'

　　'O no,' said her husband off-handedly. 'These country lads willcarry a hundredweight once they get it on their backs; besides hispack had more size than weight in it. Now, then, another mile and Ishall be able to show you our house in the distance--if it is nottoo dark before we get there.' The wheels spun round, and particlesflew from their periphery as before, till a white house of ampledimensions revealed itself, with farm-buildings and ricks at theback.

　　Meanwhile the boy had quickened his pace, and turning up a by-lanesome mile and half short of the white farmstead, ascended towardsthe leaner pastures, and so on to the cottage of his mother.

　　She had reached home after her day's milking at the outlying dairy,and was washing cabbage at the doorway in the declining light.

　　'Hold up the net a moment,' she said, without preface, as the boycame up.

　　He flung down his bundle, held the edge of the cabbage-net, and asshe filled its meshes with the dripping leaves she went on, 'Well,did you see 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 whenshe smiles, 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 sureto be there. Go early and notice her walking in, and come home andtell me if she'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 passmy window this instant. She was with Mr. Lodge, of course. Whatdid he say or 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 himoff for Holmstoke church. He reached the ancient little pile whenthe door was just being opened, and he was the first to enter.

　　Taking his seat by the font, he watched all the parishioners filein. The well-to-do Farmer Lodge came nearly last; and his youngwife, who accompanied him, walked up the aisle with the shynessnatural to a modest woman who had appeared thus for the first time.

　　As all other eyes were fixed upon her, the youth's stare was notnoticed now.

　　When he reached home his mother said, 'Well?' before he had enteredthe room.

　　'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, spreadthe table-cloth. The hare you caught is very tender; but mind thatnobody catches you.--You've never told me what sort of hands shehad.'

　　'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 whistledso loud when it rubbed against the pews that the lady coloured upmore than ever for very shame at the noise, and pulled it in to keepit from touching; but when she pushed into her seat, it whewed morethan ever. Mr. Lodge, he seemed pleased, and his waistcoat stuckout, and his great golden seals hung like a lord's; but she seemedto wish her noisy gownd anywhere but on her.'

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

　　These descriptions of the newly-married couple were continued fromtime to time by the boy at his mother's request, after any chanceencounter he had had with them. But Rhoda Brook, though she mighteasily have seen young Mrs. Lodge for herself by walking a couple ofmiles, would never attempt an excursion towards the quarter wherethe farmhouse lay. Neither did she, at the daily milking in thedairyman's yard on Lodge's outlying second farm, ever speak on thesubject of the recent marriage. The dairyman, who rented the cowsof Lodge, and knew perfectly the tall milkmaid's history, with manlykindliness always kept the gossip in the cow-barton from annoyingRhoda. But the atmosphere thereabout was full of the subject duringthe first days of Mrs. Lodge's arrival; and from her boy'sdescription and the casual words of the other milkers, Rhoda Brookcould raise a mental image of the unconscious Mrs Lodge that wasrealistic as a photograph.