soldiers taking a walk.
When she at last got down to the levels again she paused to fetch breath,
and murmured, 'Why did I take so much trouble? He would not, after all,
have hurt me.'

As she neared the mill an erect figure with a blue body and white thighs
descended before her from the down towards the village, and went past the
mill to a stile beyond, over which she usually returned to her house.
Here he lingered. On coming nearer Anne discovered this person to be
Trumpet-major Loveday; and not wishing to meet anybody just now Anne
passed quickly on, and entered the house by the garden door.

'My dear Anne, what a time you have been gone!' said her mother.

'Yes, I have been round by another road.'

'Why did you do that?'

Anne looked thoughtful and reticent, for her reason was almost too silly
a one to confess. 'Well, I wanted to avoid a person who is very busy
trying to meet me--that's all,' she said.

Her mother glanced out of the window. 'And there he is, I suppose,' she
said, as John Loveday, tired of looking for Anne at the stile, passed the
house on his way to his father's door. He could not help casting his
eyes towards their window, and, seeing them, he smiled.

Anne's reluctance to mention Festus was such that she did not correct her
mother's error, and the dame went on: 'Well, you are quite right, my
dear. Be friendly with him, but no more at present. I have heard of
your other affair, and think it is a very wise choice. I am sure you
have my best wishes in it, and I only hope it will come to a point.'

'What's that?' said the astonished Anne.

'You and Mr. Festus Derriman, dear. You need not mind me; I have known
it for several days. Old Granny Seamore called here Saturday, and told
me she saw him coming home with you across Park Close last week, when you
went for the newspaper; so I thought I'd send you again to-day, and give
you another chance.'

'Then you didn't want the paper--and it was only for that!'

'He's a very fine young fellow; he looks a thorough woman's protector.'

'He may look it,' said Anne.

'He has given up the freehold farm his father held at Pitstock, and lives
in independence on what the land brings him. And when Farmer Derriman
dies, he'll have all the old man's, for certain. He'll be worth ten
thousand pounds, if a penny, in money, besides sixteen horses, cart and
hack, a fifty-cow dairy, and at least five hundred sheep.'

Anne turned away, and instead