glade and the wandering
brook.

One evening when I was sitting here, neither drawing, nor working, nor
even thinking with any set purpose, but idly allowing my mind to rove,
like the rivulet, without any heed, I became aware of a moving figure
in the valley. At first it did not appear to me as a thing at all worth
notice; it might be a very straightforward cow, or a horse, coming on
like a stalking-horse, keeping hind-legs strictly behind, in direct
desire of water. I had often seen those sweet things that enjoy four
legs walking in the line of distance as if they were no better off than
we are, kindly desiring, perhaps, to make the biped spectator content
with himself. And I was content to admire this cow or horse, or whatever
it might be, without any more than could be helped of that invidious
feeling which has driven the human race now to establish its right to a
tail, and its hope of four legs. So little, indeed, did I think of what
I saw, that when among the hazel twigs, parted carelessly by my hand,
a cluster of nuts hung manifest, I gathered it, and began to crack and
eat, although they were scarcely ripe yet.

But while employed in this pleasant way, I happened to glance again
through my leafy screen, and then I distinguished the figure in the
distance as that of a man walking rapidly. He was coming down the
mill-stream meadow toward the wooden bridge, carrying a fishing rod, but
clearly not intent on angling. For instead of following the course
of the stream, he was keeping quite away from it, avoiding also the
footpath, or, at any rate, seeming to prefer the long shadows of the
trees and the tufted places. This made me look at him, and very soon I
shrank into my nest and watched him.

As he came nearer any one could tell that he was no village workman,
bolder than the rest, and venturesome to cross the "Murder-bridge" in
his haste to be at home. The fishing rod alone was enough to show this
when it came into clearer view; for our good people, though they fished
sometimes, only used rough rods of their own making, without any varnish
or brass thing for the line. And the man was of different height and
walk and dress from any of our natives.

"Who can he be?" I whispered to myself, as my heart began to beat
heavily, and then seemed almost to stop, as it answered, "This is the
man who was in the churchyard." Ignoble as it was, and contemptible,
and vile, and traitorous to all duty, my first thought was about