ings a song of
praise among the thickets.

Over the trees ran the great down with its smooth green sides, as far as
the eye could see. The heat winked on its velvety bluffs, and it seemed
to him, as it had often seemed before, like a great beast lying there in
a dream, with a cloth of green cast over its huge limbs.

He was a tall lean man, somewhat stooping. His face had a certain
beauty; his hair and beard were dark and curling; he had large eyes that
looked sadly out from under heavy lids. His mouth was small, and had a
very sweet smile when he was pleased; but his brow was puckered together
as though he pondered; his hands were thin and delicate, and there was
something almost womanly about his whole air.

Presently he walked into the little lane that bordered his garden. He
heard the sound of wheels coming slowly along the white chalky road; he
waited to look, and saw a sad sight. In the cart was a truss of hay, and
sunk upon it sate a man, his face down on his breast, deadly pale; as
the cart moved, he swayed a little from side to side. The driver of the
cart walked beside, sullenly and slowly; and by him walked a girl, just
grown a woman, as pale as death, looking at the man that sate in the
cart with a look of terror and love; sometimes she would take his
helpless hand, and murmur a word; but the man heeded not, and sate lost
in his pain. As they passed him he could see a great bandage on the
man's chest that was red with blood. He asked the waggoner what this
was, and he told him that it was a young man of the country-side that
had been hurt in a fight; he was but newly married, and it was thought
he could not live. The cart had stopped, and the woman pulled a little
cup out of a jug of water that stood in the straw, and put it to the
wounded man's lips, who opened his eyes, all dark and dazed with pain,
but with no look of recognition in them, and drank greedily, sinking
back into his sick dream again. The girl put the cup back, and clasped
her hands over her eyes, and then across her breast with a low moan, as
though her heart would break. The tears came into Sir Henry's eyes; and
fumbling in his pockets he took out some coins and gave them to the
woman, with a kind word. "Let him be well bestowed," he said. The woman
took the coins, hardly heeding him; and presently the cart started
again, a shoot of pain darting across the wounded man's face as the
wheels grated on the stones.

Sir Henry stood long look