weary, after working all
night and keeping afoot all day. She mounted beside the coachman,
wondering why this good-fortune had happened to her. He was rather a
great man in aspect, and she did not like to inquire of him for some
time.

At last she said, "Who has been so kind as to ask me to ride?"

"Mrs. Charmond," replied her statuesque companion.

Marty was stirred at the name, so closely connected with her last
night's experiences. "Is this her carriage?" she whispered.

"Yes; she's inside."

Marty reflected, and perceived that Mrs. Charmond must have recognized
her plodding up the hill under the blaze of the lamp; recognized,
probably, her stubbly poll (since she had kept away her face), and
thought that those stubbles were the result of her own desire.

Marty South was not so very far wrong. Inside the carriage a pair of
bright eyes looked from a ripely handsome face, and though behind those
bright eyes was a mind of unfathomed mysteries, beneath them there beat
a heart capable of quick extempore warmth--a heart which could, indeed,
be passionately and imprudently warm on certain occasions. At present,
after recognizing the girl, she had acted on a mere impulse, possibly
feeling gratified at the denuded appearance which signified the success
of her agent in obtaining what she had required.

"'Tis wonderful that she should ask ye," observed the magisterial
coachman, presently. "I have never known her do it before, for as a
rule she takes no interest in the village folk at all."

Marty said no more, but occasionally turned her head to see if she
could get a glimpse of the Olympian creature who as the coachman had
truly observed, hardly ever descended from her clouds into the Tempe of
the parishioners. But she could discern nothing of the lady. She also
looked for Miss Melbury and Winterborne. The nose of their horse
sometimes came quite near the back of Mrs. Charmond's carriage. But
they never attempted to pass it till the latter conveyance turned
towards the park gate, when they sped by. Here the carriage drew up
that the gate might be opened, and in the momentary silence Marty heard
a gentle oral sound, soft as a breeze.

"What's that?" she whispered.

"Mis'ess yawning."

"Why should she yawn?"

"Oh, because she's been used to such wonderfully good life, and finds
it dull here. She'll soon be off again on account of it."

"So rich and so powerful, and yet to yawn!" the girl murmured. "Then