ed off the soil and thrown in a heap, and planks had
been laid down for the wheelbarrows. A rake, which some haymaker had
left, stood planted in the ground, teeth uppermost; beside it a
labourer's barrow lay overturned. A few yards away a thick elderberry
bush was growing dim in the twilight, and its bunches of blossom looked
curiously white and spectral.

I think even W. V. felt it strange to see this new road so brusquely
invading the ancient fields. I looked across the frank natural acres
(as if they were a sort of wild creature), stretching away with their
hedgerows and old trees to the blue outline of the hills on the
horizon, and wondered how much longer one might see the rose-red of
sunset showing through interlaced branches, or dark knots of coppice
silhouetted against the grey-green breadths of tranquil twilight.

When we went a little further we caught sight among the trees of some
out-buildings of the farm. What a lost, pathetic look they had!

Thinking of the stories in my book, it seemed to me that the scene
before me was a figure of the change which took place when the life we
know invaded and absorbed the strange mediaeval life which we know no
longer, and which it is now so difficult to realise.

Slowly the afterglow faded; when you looked carefully for a star, here
and there a little speck of gold could be found in the heavens; the
birds were all in their nests, head under wing; white and grey moths
were beginning to flutter to and fro.

Suddenly over the fields the sound of church-bells floated to us.

"Is that the Angelus, father?" asked W. V.

"No, dear; I think it must be the ringers practising."

"If it had been the Angelus, would St. Francis have stood still to say
the prayer?"

"I think he would have knelt down to say it. That would be more like
St. Francis."

"And would William the Conqueror?"

"Why, no; I fancy he would have taken it for the curfew bell."

"They do still ring the curfew bell in some places, don't they, father?"

"Oh yes; in several places; but, of course, they don't cover up their
fires."

"I like to hear of those old bells; don't you, father?"

As we reached the end of the new road we saw the man lighting the lamp
there; and we watched him going quickly from one post to another,
leaving a little flower of fire wherever he stopped. All was very
quiet, and, as he went down the street, we could hear the sound of his
footsteps growing fainter and fainte