o bright was
their condition, so good their quality. Mrs. Braithwaite watched me from
the door.

"I doubt you'll be thinking them's our own," said she. "I wish they
were; t'squire sent 'em in this afternoon."

"For my use?"

"Ay; I doubt he thought what we had ourselves wasn't good enough. An'
it's him 'at sent t' armchair, t'bed-linen, t'bath, an' that there
lookin'-glass an' all."

She had followed me into the bedroom, where I looked with redoubled
interest at each object as she mentioned it, and it was in the glass--a
masqueline shaving-glass--that I caught my second glimpse of my
landlady's evil expression--levelled this time at myself.

I instantly turned round and told her that I thought it very kind of Mr.
Rattray, but that, for my part, I was not a luxurious man, and that I
felt rather sorry the matter had not been left entirely in her hands.
She retired seemingly mollified, and she took my sympathy with her,
though I was none the less pleased and cheered by my new friend's zeal
for my comfort; there were even flowers on my table, without a doubt
from Kirby Hall.

And in another matter the squire had not misled me: the woman was an
excellent plain cook. I expected ham and eggs. Sure enough, this was my
dish, but done to a turn. The eggs were new and all unbroken, the ham
so lean and yet so tender, that I would not have exchanged my humble,
hearty meal for the best dinner served that night in London. It made a
new man of me, after my long journey and my cold, damp drive. I was for
chatting with Mrs. Braithwaite when she came up to clear away. I
thought she might be glad to talk after the life she must lead with her
afflicted husband, but it seemed to have had the opposite effect on her.
All I elicited was an ambiguous statement as to the distance between the
cottage and the hall; it was "not so far." And so she left me to my pipe
and to my best night yet, in the stillest spot I have ever slept in
on dry land; one heard nothing but the bubble of a beck; and it seemed
very, very far away.

A fine, bright morning showed me my new surroundings in their true
colors; even in the sunshine these were not very gay. But gayety was the
last thing I wanted. Peace and quiet were my whole desire, and both were
here, set in scenery at once lovely to the eye and bracing to the soul.

From the cottage doorstep one looked upon a perfect panorama of
healthy, open English country. Purple hills hemmed in a broad, green,
un