s axiom true. Here is my old
playfellow, who cares for nothing but horses and hounds and a country
life, devotedly attached to Lady Mabel Ashbourne, who reads Greek plays
with as much enjoyment as other young ladies derive from a stirring
novel, and who hasn't an idea or an attitude that is not strictly
aesthetic."

"Do you know, Violet, I am very much afraid that this marriage is
rather the result of calculation than of genuine affection?" said Mrs.
Scobel solemnly.

"Oh, no doubt it will be a grand thing to unite Ashbourne and
Briarwood, but Roderick Vawdrey is too honourable to marry a girl he
could not love. I would never believe him capable of such baseness,"
answered Violet, standing up for her old friend.

Here they turned out of the Forest and drove through a peaceful colony
consisting of half-a-dozen cottages, a rustic inn where reigned a
supreme silence and sleepiness, and two or three houses in old-world
gardens.

Vixen changed the conversation to buns and school-children, which
agreeable theme occupied them till Titmouse had walked up a
tremendously steep hill, the Vicar trudging through the dust beside
him; and then the deep green vale in which Rufus was slain lay smiling
in the sunshine below their feet.

Perhaps the panorama to be seen from the top of that hill is absolutely
the finest in the Forest--a vast champaign, stretching far away to the
white walls, tiled roofs, and ancient abbey-church of Romsey; here a
glimpse of winding water, there a humble village--nameless save for its
inhabitants--nestling among the trees, or basking in the broad sunshine
of a common.

At the top of the hill, Bates, the gray-headed groom, who had attended
Violet ever since her first pony-ride, took possession of Titmouse and
the chaise, while the baskets were handed over to a lad, who had been
on the watch for their arrival. Then they all went down the steep path
into the valley, at the bottom of which the children were swarming in a
cluster, as thick as bees, while a pale flame and a cloud of white
smoke went up from the midst of them like the fire beneath a sacrifice.
This indicated the boiling of the kettle, in true gipsy fashion.

For the next hour and a half tea-drinking was the all-absorbing
business with everybody. The boiling of the kettle was a grand feature
in the entertainment. Cups and saucers were provided by a little colony
of civilised gipsies, who seem indigenous to the spot, and whose summer
life