th and three dogs. It hurt Mhor afresh to see the
dogs barking happily while Peter, who would so have enjoyed a fight with
them, was spending a boring day in the stable-yard, but Jean comforted
him with the thought of Peter's delight at Mintern Abbas.

"Will Richard Plantagenet mind if he chases rabbits?"

"You won't, will you, Biddy?" Jean said.

"Not a bit. If you'll stand between me and the wrath of the keepers
Peter may do any mortal thing he likes."

As they drove away through the golden afternoon Jean said: "I've always
wondered what people talked about when they went away on their wedding
journey?"

"They don't talk: they just look into each other's eyes in a sort of
ecstasy, saying, 'Is it I? Is it thou?'"

"That would be pretty silly," said Jean. "We shan't do that anyway."

Her husband laughed.

"You are really very like Jock, my Jean.... D'you remember what your
admired Dr. Johnson said? 'If I had no duties I would spend my life in
driving briskly in a post-chaise with a pretty woman, but she should be
one who could understand me and would add something to the
conversation.' Wise old man! Tell me, Penny-plain, you're not fretting
about leaving the boys? You'll see them again in a few days. Are you
dreading having me undiluted?"

"My dear, you don't suppose the boys come first now, do you? I love them
as dearly as ever I did, but compared with you--it's so different,
absolutely different--I can't explain. I don't love you like people in
books, all on fire, and saying wonderful things all the time. But to be
with you fills me with utter content. I told you that night in Hopetoun
that the boys filled my life. And then you went away, and I found that
though I had the boys my life and my heart were empty. You are my life,
Biddy."

"My blessed child."

* * * * *

About four o'clock they came home.

An upland country of pastures and shallow dales fell quietly to the
river levels, and on a low spur that was its last outpost stood Mintern
Abbas, a thing half of the hills and half of the broad valleys. At its
back, beyond the home-woods, was a remote land of sheep walks and
forgotten hamlets; at its feet the young Thames in lazy reaches wound
through water-meadows. Down the slopes of old pasture fell cascades of
daffodils, and in the fringes of the coppices lay the blue haze of wild
hyacinths. The house was so wholly in tune with the landscape that the
eye did not at once