The Woodlanders

Marty was stirred at the name, so closely connected with her last

night's experiences. "Is this her carriage?" she whispered.

"Yes; she's inside."

Marty reflected, and perceived that Mrs. Charmond must have recognized

her plodding up the hill under the blaze of the lamp; recognized,

probably, her stubbly poll (since she had kept away her face), and

thought that those stubbles were the result of her own desire.

Marty South was not so very far wrong. Inside the carriage a pair of

bright eyes looked from a ripely handsome face, and though behind those

bright eyes was a mind of unfathomed mysteries, beneath them there beat

a heart capable of quick extempore warmth--a heart which could, indeed,

be passionately and imprudently warm on certain occasions. At present,

after recognizing the girl, she had acted on a mere impulse, possibly

feeling gratified at the denuded appearance which signified the success

of her agent in obtaining what she had required.

"'Tis wonderful that she should ask ye," observed the magisterial

coachman, presently. "I have never known her do it before, for as a

rule she takes no interest in the village folk at all."

Marty said no more, but occasionally turned her head to see if she

could get a glimpse of the Olympian creature who as the coachman had

truly observed, hardly ever descended from her clouds into the Tempe of

the parishioners. But she could discern nothing of the lady. She also

looked for Miss Melbury and Winterborne. The nose of their horse

sometimes came quite near the back of Mrs. Charmond's carriage. But

they never attempted to pass it till the latter conveyance turned

towards the park gate, when they sped by. Here the carriage drew up

that the gate might be opened, and in the momentary silence Marty heard

a gentle oral sound, soft as a breeze.

"What's that?" she whispered.

"Mis'ess yawning."

"Why should she yawn?"

"Oh, because she's been used to such wonderfully good life, and finds

it dull here. She'll soon be off again on account of it."

"So rich and so powerful, and yet to yawn!" the girl murmured. "Then

things don't fay with she any more than with we!"

Marty now alighted; the lamp again shone upon her, and as the carriage

rolled on, a soft voice said to her from the interior, "Good-night."

"Good-night, ma'am," said Marty. But she had not been able to see the

woman who began so greatly to interest her--the second person of her

own sex who had operated strongly on her mind that day.