iness, and were
degenerated into the nature of beasts, of serpents, of tall cedars, of
oaks, of bulls and of heifers.' ... 'Some were in the nature of dogs
and swine, biting and rending; some in the nature of briars, thistles
and thorns; some like the owls and dragons in the night; some like the
wild asses and horses snuffing up the wind; and some like the
mountains and rocks, and crooked and rough ways.' 'I was not certain
of his meaning when I first heard him utter these words,' simple Miles
thought to himself, 'but now that I see this fine Thistle coming
towards me, I begin to understand him. Haply it is but a Thistle in
outer seeming, and carries within the nature of a Lily or a Rose.'

Even as he thought of this, the Thistle came yet nearer, and when he
could see it more plainly he feared that neither Lily nor Rose was
there, but a Thistle full of prickles in very truth. It was indeed a
woman, but clad in more gorgeous raiment than Miles had ever seen.
Green satin was her robe, slashed with pale yellow silk, marvellous to
behold. But it was the hat that drew Miles' gaze, for though newly
come to be a Quaker preacher, he had been a husbandman long enough to
be swift to notice the garb of all growing, living things, whether
they were flowers or dames. Truly the hat was marvellous, of a bright
purple satin, and crowned with such a tuft of tall feathers that the
wearer's face could scarcely be seen beneath its shade. Dressed all in
gaudy style was this fine Madam; and, as she passed Miles, she tilted
up her head and drew her skirts disdainfully together, lest they
should be soiled by his approach. Although the lady appeared to see
him not, but to be gazing at the sky, she was in truth well aware of
his presence, and awaited even hungrily a lowly obeisance from him,
that should assure her in her own sight of her own importance. For of
no high-born lineage was this flaunting dame, no earl's or duke's
daughter, else perhaps she had been too well aware of her own dignity
and worth to insist upon others acknowledging it. She was but the
young wife of the old Justice, Thomas Preston, and a plain Mistress,
like Miles' own simple wife at home, in spite of her gay garments and
flaunting airs. But the fact that she had newly come to live at Holker
Hall, the finest mansion in all that country-side, had uplifted her
in her own sight, and puffed her out with pride, sending her forth at
all hours into unseasonable places to show off