pread about the broken stones, and where the walls might totter they
were supported. The honour of this change too is ascribed to the famous
son of Betty Lamb, who had no name but his mother's.

XI

THE SOUL OF A MAN

CHAPTER I

A man was standing on one of the highroads in the south of
Gloucestershire. He was a man of science; his tools and specimens were
in his hand, and he was leaning against the wayside paling, enjoying a
well-earned rest. A long flock of birds fluttered over the autumn
fields; beneath them a slow ploughman trudged with his horses, breaking
the yellow stubble. The sky hung low, full of sunshine yet full of
haze--an atmosphere of blue flame, and the earth was bright with the
warm autumn colours of woods and hedgerow.

Just as the birds were flying past, a young woman came by upon the road,
treading with quick powerful step upon the fallen leaves. She was a poor
woman; her beauty, which would have been almost perfect in a simpler
gown, was marred by garments cut in cheap conformity to fashionable
dress. It could not be hidden, however, and her large symmetrical
figure, swinging as she walked, attracted the attention of the man; as
he stood there, leaning against the paling, he felt by no means
disinclined to while away his hour of rest by a few soft words with the
comely stranger. If he had put his thoughts into words, he would have
held it as good luck that she had come to amuse his leisure, thinking
very little about luck as it concerned her. His dog lying at his feet
stirred to look at the woman, and the man, following the same instinct
of nature, accosted her.

'Can you tell me, my girl, what time it is?'

She stopped short and looked at him. 'That I can't, sir,' she said in
clear hearty tones, and turned to continue her walk.

'But tell me what time you think it is, my good girl; I am not good at
reading the sun.'

She turned again, and looked at him with a longer pause, but, if there
was suspicion or disapproval in her thoughts, she expressed nothing in
her face.

'Yer a gent; I'd 'a thought ye'd 'a had a watch.'

'But mine is at the watchmaker's getting mended,' he said with a smile.
He was neither young nor handsome, but he was clever, and that goes
further than either in dealing with a woman.

She still stood staring at him in rude independence.

'The shadows is longer 'an they was a while by; mebbe it's three.'

He sighed and shifted his position wearily against the