self in a very different world from that he had
left. Far away behind him lay the great city (even now the dusky dome of
St. Paul's was visible across the level swathes of landscape), with its
miry ways and teeming population and continuous thunder of traffic;
while here were the windy skies of a wild March morning and swaying
trees and cawing rooks and air that was sweet in the nostrils and soft
to the throat. As he light-heartedly strode away across the undulations
of blossoming gorse, fragments of song from his favorite poets chased
one another through his brain; and somehow they were all connected with
the glad opening out of the year--"And then my heart with pleasure
fills, and dances with the daffodils"--"Along the grass sweet airs are
blown, our way this day in spring"--"And in the gloaming o' the wood,
the throssil whistled sweet"--Mangan could sing no more than a crow; but
he felt as if he were singing; there was a kind of music in the long
stride, the quick pulse, the deep inhalations of the delicious air. For
all was going to be well now; he was about to consult Francie as to
Lionel's sad estate. He did not stay to ask himself whether it were
likely that a quiet and gentle girl, living in this secluded
neighborhood, could be of much help in such a matter; it was enough that
he was going to talk it all over with Miss Francie; things would be
clearer then.

Now, as you go up from Winstead Station to Winstead Village, there is a
strip of coppice that runs parallel with one part of the highway; and
through this prolonged dingle a pathway meanders, which he who is not in
a hurry may prefer to the road. Of course Mangan chose this pleasanter
way, though he had to moderate his pace now because of the briars; and
right glad was he to notice the various symptoms of the new-born life of
the world--the pale anemones stirred by the warm, moist breeze, the
delicate blossoms of the little wood-sorrel, the budded raceme of the
wild hyacinth; while loud and clear a blackbird sang from a neighboring
bough. He did not expect to meet any one; he certainly did not expect to
meet Miss Francie Wright, who would doubtless be away at her cottages.
But all of a sudden he was startled by the apparition of a rabbit that
came running towards him, and then, seeing him, bolted off at right
angles; and as this caused him to look up from his botanizings, here,
unmistakably, was Miss Francie, coming along through the glade. Her pale
complexi