ess, wounded
vanity, and impatience. Life was neither lonely nor monotonous, she
had a noble object to work for. So the winter passed, and the spring
came again. All over the fells the ewes and their lambs made constant
work for the shepherds; and Aspatria greatly pleased Will by going
out frequently to pick up the perishing, weakly lambs and succour
them.

One day in April she took a bottle of warm milk and a bit of sponge
and went up Calder Fell. On the first reach of the fell she found a
dying lamb, and carried it down to the shelter of some whin-bushes.
Then she fed it with the warm milk, and the little creature went to
sleep in her arms.

The grass was green and fresh, the sun warm; the whins sheltered her
from the wind, and a little thrush in them, busy building her nest,
was making sweet music out of air as sweet. All was so glad and quiet:
she, too, was happy in her own thoughts. A wagon passed, and then a
tax-cart, and afterward two old men going ditching. She hardly lifted
her head; every one knew Aspatria Anneys. When the shadows told her
that it was near noon, she rose to go home, holding the lamb in her
arms. At that moment a carriage came slowly from behind the hedge.
She saw the fine horses with their glittering harness, and knew it
was a strange vehicle in Ambar-Side, so she sat down again until it
should pass. The lamb was in her left arm. She threw back her head,
and gazed fixedly into the whin-bush where the thrush had its nest.
Whoever it was, she did not wish to be recognized.

Lady Redware, Sarah Sandys, and Ulfar Fenwick were in the carriage. At
the moment she stood with the lamb in her arms, Ulfar had known his
wife. Lady Redware saw her almost as quickly, and in some occult way
she transferred, by a glance, the knowledge to Sarah. The carriage was
going very slowly; the beauty of the thrown-back head, the simplicity
of her dress, the pastoral charm of her position, all were distinct.
Ulfar looked at her with a fire of passion in his eyes, Lady Redware
with annoyance. Sarah asked, with a mocking laugh, "Is that really
Little Bo Peep?" The joke fell flat. Ulfar did not immediately answer
it; and Sarah was piqued.

"I shall go to Italy again," she said. "Englishmen may be admirable
_en masse_, but individually they are stupid or cross."

"In Italy there are the Capuchins," answered Ulfar. He remembered that
Sarah had expressed herself strongly about the order.

"I have just passed a week at