ted windows of the square-towered church.

He sat smoking; pondering, with placid and reverential contemplation,
on the Mighty Maker of the world--a world majestically and inevitably
ordered; a world where, he argued, each object--each fissure in the
fells, the winding course of each tumbling stream--possesses its
mysterious purport, its inevitable signification....

At the end of the field two rams were fighting; retreating, then running
together, and, leaping from the ground, butting head to head and horn to
horn. Anthony watched them absently, pursuing his rude meditations.

... And the succession of bad seasons, the slow ruination of the farmers
throughout the country, were but punishment meted out for the
accumulated wickedness of the world. In the olden time God rained
plagues upon the land: nowadays, in His wrath, He spoiled the produce of
the earth, which, with His own hands, He had fashioned and bestowed upon
men.

He rose and continued his walk along the bridle-path. A multitude of
rabbits scuttled up the hill at his approach; and a great cloud of
plovers, rising from the rushes, circled overhead, filling the air with
a profusion of their querulous cries. All at once he heard a rattling of
stones, and perceived a number of small pieces of shingle bounding in
front of him down the grassy slope.

A woman's figure was moving among the rocks above him. The next moment,
by the trimming of crimson velvet on her hat, he had recognized her. He
mounted the slope with springing strides, wondering the while how it was
she came to be there, that she was not in church playing the organ at
afternoon service.

Before she was aware of his approach, he was beside her.

'I thought ye'd be in church--' he began.

She started: then, gradually regaining her composure, answered, weakly
smiling:

'Mr. Jenkinson, the new schoolmaster, wanted to try the organ.'

He came towards her impulsively: she saw the odd flickers in his eyes as
she stepped back in dismay.

'Nay, but I will na harm ye,' he said. 'Only I reckon what 'tis a
special turn o' Providence, meetin' wi' ye oop here. I reckon what ye'll
hev t' give me a square answer noo. Ye canna dilly-dally everlastingly.'

He spoke almost brutally; and she stood, white and gasping, staring at
him with large, frightened eyes. The sheep-walk was but a tiny
threadlike track: the slope of the shingle on either side was very
steep: below them lay the valley; distant, lifeless,