two lovers were keeping company
where all the villagers could see them. They cared for no one else;
they felt only the pressure of each other, and so progressed, silent
and oblivious, across the land. He felt them to be nearer the truth
than Shelley. Even if they suffered or quarrelled, they would have been
nearer the truth. He wondered whether they were Henry Adams and Jessica
Thompson, both of this parish, whose banns had been asked for the second
time in the church this morning. Why could he not marry on fifteen
shillings a-week? And be looked at them with respect, and wished that he
was not a cumbersome gentleman.

Presently he saw something less pleasant--his aunt's pony carriage. It
had crossed the railway, and was advancing up the Roman road along by
the straw sacks. His impulse was to retreat, but someone waved to him.
It was Agnes. She waved continually, as much as to say, "Wait for us."
Mrs. Failing herself raised the whip in a nonchalant way. Stephen Wonham
was following on foot, some way behind. He put the Shelley back into his
pocket and waited for them. When the carriage stopped by some hurdles
he went down from the embankment and helped them to dismount. He felt
rather nervous.

His aunt gave him one of her disquieting smiles, but said pleasantly
enough, "Aren't the Rings a little immense? Agnes and I came here
because we wanted an antidote to the morning service."

"Pang!" said the church bell suddenly; "pang! pang!" It sounded petty
and ludicrous. They all laughed. Rickie blushed, and Agnes, with a
glance that said "apologize," darted away to the entrenchment, as though
unable to restrain her curiosity.

"The pony won't move," said Mrs. Failing. "Leave him for Stephen to tie
up. Will you walk me to the tree in the middle? Booh! I'm tired. Give me
your arm--unless you're tired as well."

"No. I came out partly in the hope of helping you."

"How sweet of you." She contrasted his blatant unselfishness with the
hardness of Stephen. Stephen never came out to help you. But if you got
hold of him he was some good. He didn't wobble and bend at the critical
moment. Her fancy compared Rickie to the cracked church bell sending
forth its message of "Pang! pang!" to the countryside, and Stephen to
the young pagans who were said to lie under this field guarding their
pagan gold.

"This place is full of ghosties," she remarked; "have you seen any yet?"

"I've kept on the outer rim so far."

"Let's go to th