ut that fly. What a stupid
little mistake it had been! Nothing wrong in what she had done at all,
if she had only been quite open about it. What would Delia think of it,
she wondered. She glanced sideways at her. What a very firm, decided
mouth and chin she had: she looked as though she were never afraid of
anything, and always quite sure to do right. Perhaps, if she knew of
this, she would look as scornful and angry as she had that afternoon, in
speaking of the Dornton people. That would be dreadful. Anna could not
risk that. She wanted Delia to like and admire her very much, and on no
account to think badly of her. So she checked the faint impulse she had
had towards the confession of her foolishness, and was almost relieved
when they reached the point where Delia was to turn back to Dornton.
They parted affectionately, with many hopes and promises as to their
meeting again soon, and Anna stood at the white gate watching her new
friend until she was out of sight.

Then she looked round her. She was in quite a strange land, for
although she had now been some weeks at Waverley, she had not yet
explored the fields between the village and Dornton. On her right, a
little way down the grassy lane, stood Mr Oswald's house, a solid,
square building, of old, red brick, pleasantly surrounded by barns,
cattle-sheds, and outbuildings, all of a substantial, prosperous
appearance. It crossed Anna's mind that she should very much like to
see the farmer's cows, as he had proposed, but she had not the courage
to present herself at the house and ask for Daisy. She must content
herself by looking in at the farmyard gate as she passed it. A little
farther on, Delia had pointed out another gate, on the other side of the
lane, which led straight into the Vicarage field, and towards this she
now made her way.

She was unusually thoughtful as she sauntered slowly down the lane, for
her visit to Dornton had brought back thoughts of her mother and
grandfather, which had lately been kept in the background. She had
to-day heard them spoken of with affection and admiration, instead of
being passed over in silence. Waverley was very pleasant. Aunt Sarah
was kind, and her Uncle John indulgent, but about her relations in
Dornton there was scarcely a word spoken. It was strange. She
remembered Delia's sparkling eyes as she talked of Mr Goodwin. That
was stranger still. In the two visits Anna had paid to him, she had not
discov