e would tell nothing about them; saying that
they paid handsomely, and never did any harm; so why should they be
speaking of any strange things that might happen? That, as the landlord
shrewdly observed, showed there was something out of the common way: he
had heard that the elderly woman was a cousin of the farmer's where
they lodged, and so the regard existing between relations might help to
keep them quiet.

'What did he think, then, was the reason for their extreme seclusion?'
asked I.

'Nay, he could not tell, not he. He had heard that the young lady, for
all as quiet as she seemed, played strange pranks at times.' He shook
his head when I asked him for more particulars, and refused to give
them, which made me doubt if he knew any, for he was in general a
talkative and communicative man. In default of other interests, after
my uncle left, I set myself to watch these two people. I hovered about
their walks, drawn towards them with a strange fascination, which was
not diminished by their evident annoyance at so frequently meeting me.
One day, I had the sudden good fortune to be at hand when they were
alarmed by the attack of a bull, which, in those unenclosed grazing
districts, was a particularly dangerous occurrence. I have other and
more important things to relate, than to tell of the accident which
gave me an opportunity of rescuing them; it is enough to say, that this
event was the beginning of an acquaintance, reluctantly acquiesced in
by them, but eagerly prosecuted by me. I can hardly tell when intense
curiosity became merged in love, but in less than ten days after my
uncle's departure I was passionately enamoured of Mrs. Lucy, as her
attendant called her; carefully--for this I noted well--avoiding any
address which appeared as if there was an equality of station between
them. I noticed also that Mrs. Clarke, the elderly woman, after her
first reluctance to allow me to pay them any attentions had been
overcome, was cheered by my evident attachment to the young girl; it
seemed to lighten her heavy burden of care, and she evidently favoured
my visits to the farm-house where they lodged. It was not so with Lucy.
A more attractive person I never saw, in spite of her depression of
manner, and shrinking avoidance of me. I felt sure at once, that
whatever was the source of her grief, it rose from no fault of her own.
It was difficult to draw her into conversation; but when at times, for
a moment or two, I beguiled