ines of
the edifice into its gloomy monochrome.

Not another word was spoken for some time, and they climbed a hill, then
another hill piled on the summit of the first. An additional mile of
plateau followed, from which could be discerned two light-houses on the
coast they were nearing, reposing on the horizon with a calm lustre of
benignity. Another oasis was reached; a little dell lay like a nest at
their feet, towards which the driver pulled the horse at a sharp angle,
and descended a steep slope which dived under the trees like a rabbit's
burrow. They sank lower and lower.

'Endelstow Vicarage is inside here,' continued the man with the reins.
'This part about here is West Endelstow; Lord Luxellian's is East
Endelstow, and has a church to itself. Pa'son Swancourt is the pa'son
of both, and bobs backward and forward. Ah, well! 'tis a funny world.
'A b'lieve there was once a quarry where this house stands. The man who
built it in past time scraped all the glebe for earth to put round the
vicarage, and laid out a little paradise of flowers and trees in the
soil he had got together in this way, whilst the fields he scraped have
been good for nothing ever since.'

'How long has the present incumbent been here?'

'Maybe about a year, or a year and half: 'tisn't two years; for they
don't scandalize him yet; and, as a rule, a parish begins to scandalize
the pa'son at the end of two years among 'em familiar. But he's a very
nice party. Ay, Pa'son Swancourt knows me pretty well from often driving
over; and I know Pa'son Swancourt.'

They emerged from the bower, swept round in a curve, and the chimneys
and gables of the vicarage became darkly visible. Not a light showed
anywhere. They alighted; the man felt his way into the porch, and rang
the bell.

At the end of three or four minutes, spent in patient waiting without
hearing any sounds of a response, the stranger advanced and repeated the
call in a more decided manner. He then fancied he heard footsteps in the
hall, and sundry movements of the door-knob, but nobody appeared.

'Perhaps they beant at home,' sighed the driver. 'And I promised myself
a bit of supper in Pa'son Swancourt's kitchen. Sich lovely mate-pize and
figged keakes, and cider, and drops o' cordial that they do keep here!'

'All right, naibours! Be ye rich men or be ye poor men, that ye must
needs come to the world's end at this time o' night?' exclaimed a voice
at this instant; and, turning their he