ed desolate
enough. I believe we met no living soul on the high road which we
followed for the first three miles or more. At length we turned into a
narrow lane, with a stiff stone wall on either hand, and this eventually
led us past the lights of what appeared to be a large farm; it was
really a small hamlet; and now we were nearing our destination. Gates
had to be opened, and my poor driver breathed hard from the continual
getting down and up. In the end a long and heavy cart-track brought us
to the loneliest light that I have ever seen. It shone on the side of a
hill--in the heart of an open wilderness--as solitary as a beacon-light
at sea. It was the light of the cottage which was to be my temporary
home.

A very tall, gaunt woman stood in the doorway against the inner glow.
She advanced with a loose, long stride, and invited me to enter in a
voice harsh (I took it) from disuse. I was warming myself before the
kitchen fire when she came in carrying my heaviest box as though it had
nothing in it. I ran to take it from her, for the box was full of books,
but she shook her head, and was on the stairs with it before I could
intercept her.

I conceive that very few men are attracted by abnormal strength in a
woman; we cannot help it; and yet it was not her strength which first
repelled me in Mrs. Braithwaite. It was a combination of attributes. She
had a poll of very dirty and untidy red hair; her eyes were set close
together; she had the jowl of the traditional prize-fighter. But far
more disagreeable than any single feature was the woman's expression,
or rather the expression which I caught her assuming naturally, and
banishing with an effort for my benefit. To me she was strenuously
civil in her uncouth way. But I saw her give her husband one look, as
he staggered in with my comparatively light portmanteau, which she
instantly snatched out of his feeble arms. I saw this look again before
the evening was out, and it was such a one as Braithwaite himself had
fixed upon his horse as he flogged it up the hills.

I began to wonder how the young squire had found it in his conscience to
recommend such a pair. I wondered less when the woman finally ushered
me upstairs to my rooms. These were small and rugged, but eminently snug
and clean. In each a good fire blazed cheerfully; my portmanteau was
already unstrapped, the table in the sitting-room already laid; and I
could not help looking twice at the silver and the glass, s