hink that it was a little dull having nowhere to walk to but Mrs.
Bagley's shop. To be sure there was the Rectory: but Mrs. Wilberforce
would be sure to question her so closely about all that had happened and
was going to happen that Chatty preferred not to risk that ordeal. There
was not a soul about the village on this particular afternoon. Chatty
thought she had never seen it so deserted. To make her walk a little
longer, she had come out by the farther gate of the Warren,--the one
that Theo always used; that which was nearest Markland. The only figures
she saw in all her line of vision, as she came out, making a little sound
with the gate, which in the silence sounded like a noise and startled
them, were two women, just parting as it seemed. One of them Chatty
saw at a glance was Lizzie Hampson. The other--she came hurrying along
towards Chatty, having parted, it seemed, with a kiss from her companion.
They met full without any possibility of avoiding each other, and
Chatty, in spite of herself, gave a long look at this woman whom she had
seen before in the high phaeton, and sometimes at the gate of the Elms.
She was as young, or it might be younger than Chatty, with a lovely
complexion, perhaps slightly aided by art, and quantities of curled and
wavy hair. But the chief feature in her was her eyes--of infantine blue,
surrounded with curves of distress like a child's who has been crying its
very heart out. It was evident that she had been crying, her eyelashes
were wet, her mouth quivering. Altogether, it seemed to Chatty the face
of a child that had been naughty and was being punished. Poor thing! she
said in her soft heart, looking at the other girl with infinite pity.
Oh, how miserable it must be to go wrong! Chatty felt as if she could
have found in her heart to stop this poor young creature, and entreat
her, like a child, not to be naughty any more. The other looked at her
with those puckered and humid eyes, with a stare into which there came
a little defiance, almost an intention of affronting and insulting the
young lady; but in a moment had hurried past and Chatty saw her no more.
Chatty, too, quickened her steps, feeling, she could not tell why, a
little afraid. Why should she be afraid? She did not like to look back,
but felt as if the woman she had just passed must be mocking her behind
her back, or perhaps threatening her, ready to do her a mischief. And
certainly it was Lizzie Hampson who was running on in