low-lying pastures.
Above the stretches of purple-budding heather and waste sandy places,
upon the moors, the heat-haze danced and quivered as do vapours arising
from a furnace. Along the underside of the great woods, and in the turn
of the valleys, shadows lingered, which were less actual shadows than
blottings of blue light. The birds, busy feeding wide-mouthed, hungry
fledglings, had mostly ceased from song. But the drowsy hum of bees and
chirrup of grasshoppers was continuous, and told, very pleasantly, of
the sunshine and large plenty reigning out of doors.

For Katherine the day in question had passed in Martha-like
occupations.--A day of organising, of ordering and countermanding, a
day of much detail, much interviewing of heads of departments, a day of
meeting respectful objections, enlightening thick understandings,
gently reducing decorously opposing wills. Commissariat, transport,
housing of guests, and the servants of guests--all these entered into
the matter of the coming wedding. To compass the doing of all things,
not only decently and in order, but handsomely, and with a becoming
dignity, this required time and thought. And so, it was not until after
dinner that Katherine found herself at leisure to cease taking thought
for the morrow. Too tired to rest herself by reading, she wandered out
on the troco-ground followed by Camp.

London had not altogether suited the bull-dog as the summer wore on.
Now, in his old age, so considerable a change of surroundings put him
about both in body and mind. Seeing which, Richard had begged his
mother to take the dog with her on leaving town. Camp benefited,
unquestionably, by his return to country air. His coat stared less. He
carried his ears and tail with more sprightliness and conviction. Still
he fretted after his absent master, and followed Katherine's footsteps
very closely, his forehead more than ever wrinkled, and his unsightly
mouth pensive notwithstanding its perpetual grin. He attended her now,
squatting beside her when she paused, trotting slowly beside her when
she moved, a silent, persistent, and, as it might seem, somewhat
fatefully faithful companion.

Yet the occasion was to all appearances far from fateful, the night and
the scene, alike, being very fair. The moon had not yet risen, but a
brightness behind the sawlike edge of the fir woods eastward heralded
its coming, while sufficient light yet remained in the western and
northern sky for the mas