at a quicker pace, resolving
to keep the main road, and go wherever it might lead them.

But main roads stretch a long, long way. With the exception of two or
three inconsiderable clusters of cottages which they passed, without
stopping, and one lonely road-side public-house where they had some
bread and cheese, this highway had led them to nothing--late in the
afternoon--and still lengthened out, far in the distance, the same
dull, tedious, winding course, that they had been pursuing all day. As
they had no resource, however, but to go forward, they still kept on,
though at a much slower pace, being very weary and fatigued.

The afternoon had worn away into a beautiful evening, when they arrived
at a point where the road made a sharp turn and struck across a common.
On the border of this common, and close to the hedge which divided it
from the cultivated fields, a caravan was drawn up to rest; upon which,
by reason of its situation, they came so suddenly that they could not
have avoided it if they would.

It was not a shabby, dingy, dusty cart, but a smart little house upon
wheels, with white dimity curtains festooning the windows, and
window-shutters of green picked out with panels of a staring red, in
which happily-contrasted colours the whole concern shone brilliant.
Neither was it a poor caravan drawn by a single donkey or emaciated
horse, for a pair of horses in pretty good condition were released from
the shafts and grazing on the frouzy grass. Neither was it a gipsy
caravan, for at the open door (graced with a bright brass knocker) sat
a Christian lady, stout and comfortable to look upon, who wore a large
bonnet trembling with bows. And that it was not an unprovided or
destitute caravan was clear from this lady's occupation, which was the
very pleasant and refreshing one of taking tea. The tea-things,
including a bottle of rather suspicious character and a cold knuckle of
ham, were set forth upon a drum, covered with a white napkin; and
there, as if at the most convenient round-table in all the world, sat
this roving lady, taking her tea and enjoying the prospect.

It happened that at that moment the lady of the caravan had her cup
(which, that everything about her might be of a stout and comfortable
kind, was a breakfast cup) to her lips, and that having her eyes lifted
to the sky in her enjoyment of the full flavour of the tea, not
unmingled possibly with just the slightest dash or gleam of something