the distance by railway; the rest was by
posting; and a night had to be spent on the road.

Towards evening of the second day, Eleanor began to find herself in
what seemed an enchanted region. High mountains, with picturesque bold
outlines, rose against the sky; and every step was bringing her deeper
and deeper among them, in a rich green meadow valley. The scenery grew
only wilder, richer, and lovelier, until the sun sank behind the high
western line; and still its loveliness was not lost; while grey shades
and duskiness gathered over the mountain sides and gradually melted the
meadows and their scattered wood growth into one hue. Then only the
wild mountain outline cut against the sky, and sometimes the rushing of
a little river, told Eleanor of the varied beauty the evening hid.

Little else she could see when the chaise stopped and she got out.
Dimly a long, low building stretched before her at the side of the
road; the rippling of water sounded softly at a little distance; the
fresh mountain air blew in her face; then the house-door opened.

CHAPTER XV.

IN THE HILLS.

"Face to face with the true mountains
I stood silently and still,
Drawing strength from fancy's dauntings,
From the air about the hill,
And from Nature's open mercies, and most debonair good will."

The house-door opened first to shew a girl in short petticoats and blue
jacket holding up a light. Eleanor made towards it, across a narrow
strip of courtyard. She saw only the girl, and did not feel certain
whether she had come to the right house. For neither Mrs. Caxton nor
her home had ever been seen by any of Mr. Powle's children; though she
was his own sister. But Mrs. Caxton had married quite out of _Mrs_.
Powle's world; and though now a widow, she lived still the mistress of
a great cheese farm; quite out of Mrs. Powle's world still. The latter
had therefore never encouraged intercourse. Mrs. Caxton was an
excellent woman, no doubt, and extremely respectable; still, Ivy Lodge
and the cheese farm were further apart in feeling than in geographical
miles; and though Mrs. Caxton often invited her brother's children to
come and pick butter-cups in her meadows, Mrs. Powle always proved that
to gather primroses in Rythdale was a higher employment, and much
better for the children's manners, if not for their health. The Squire
at this late day had been unaffectedly glad of Eleanor's proposal;
avowing himself not ashamed of his