'Does he?

Does he really?

Oh, how

But why

glad I am! Are not you?'

'I shall be pleased to see him.

thy exceeding joy in the prospect?'

'He was good to me.

He did me many

kindnesses. He is the only friend I have,

and I think a great deal of him; and

there are other reasons.'

Seeing a homily threatened

in Mrs.

Katharine rose,

'I will go and take a walk by the river. It is a lovely evening.'

It is late for thee to be walking alone,' expostulated Susannah.

'No; I will go and sit in the field where the trees are. I shall not be late.'

She went out, and walked up the road till she came to the village, which stretched out before her the green in the middle, the cottages and smaller houses on the left, and on the right larger ones, while at the end

rose the church, with trees on one side, and

below, the river—

'And between the river flowing,
And the fair green trees a-growing,
Do the dead lie at their rest.'

There were two old ponies and a donkey upon the green; there were sun-dials on the houses facing east; tall trees stood still and motionless in the breathless evening air. One or two figures moved slowly across the green they looked sleepy, like the whole of the scene.

Katharine turned aside to a little path leading down a lane, with trees and a high wall on one side and a brook on the other, arched over with blackberry and dogrose bushes. Emerging from the lane, she was in a large sloping field, through which ran the lucid river. A group of trees crowned the hill, and all around lay pastures and corn-fields and ploughed lands. A long bank of woods, and then cliffs called the Rifted or Riven Scaur, shut out the

VOL. III.

N

distance.

Everything was in the grandest,

fullest maturity of August.

'All fresh the level pastures lay,'

and the short meadow grass under Katharine's feet was soft and elastic.

She walked slowly on for a time, and then sat down upon the grass, having climbed the bank and placed herself under the shadow of the trees, so that the whole fair land lay spread before her. Village sounds, subdued by distance, came to her ear-the drowsy call of well-kept animals to animals to one another the clear, musical whistle of a labourer who worked late in a neighbouring but hidden field and the melodious, gurgling murmur of the river amid his rushes. She did not see or hear anything of it, for she was thinking about what Mrs. Earnshaw had told her; and the news that Ughtred was coming had upset all her carefully-repressed memories, and left her eager, feverish, and excited.

He would be able to tell her about Ham

erton what was going on there all the

details that she craved to hear. The sight of him, she knew, would be almost overpowering at first: how he would remind her of past days-what a flavour of cloudy skies and moorland breezes would seem to hang around him! But, oh! she was glad, glad that he was coming.

She longed with an exceedingly deep longing to let her eyes rest upon his calm face and quiet eyes, and to touch once again his kind, strong hand. How long he was going to stay, what he was going to do, were questions she never asked herself. The thought that he might but be coming for a brief holiday, and might go away again soon, did not occur to her. He was coming — that was enough.

It was late, and the dark was creeping on, when she at last made up her mind to return to the house. Everything was indistinct as

she walked along the dusty white road; and

at last, putting her hand upon the latch of the heavy wooden gate, she pushed it open and entered the garden.