The beauty of the evening and the sea breeze instilled a sensation of immortal health, and she wondered if a young man came to her as young men came to the great ladies in Sarah's books, how it would be to talk in the dusk, seeing the bats flitting and the moon rising through the branches.

The family was absent from Woodview, and she was free to enjoy the beauty of every twilight and every rising moon for still another week. But she wearied for a companion. Sarah and Grover were far too grand to walk out with her; and Margaret had a young man who came to fetch her, and in their room at night she related all he had said. But for Esther there was nothing to do all the long summer evenings but to sit at the kitchen window sewing. Her hands fell on her lap, and her heart heaved a sigh of weariness. In all this world there was nothing for her to do but to continue her sewing or to go for a walk on the hill. She was tired of that weary hill! But she could not sit in the kitchen till bedtime. She might meet the old shepherd coming home with his sheep, and she put a piece of bread in her pocket for his dogs and strolled up the hill-side. Margaret had gone down to the Gardens. One of these days a young man would come to take her out. What would he be like? She laughed the thought away. She did not think that any young man would bother much about her. Happening at that moment to look round, she saw a man coming through the hunting gate. His height and shoulders told her that he was William. "Trying to find Sarah," she thought. "I must not let him think I am waiting for him." She continued her walk, wondering if he were following, afraid to look round. At last she fancied she could hear footsteps; her heart beat faster. He called to her.

"I think Sarah has gone to the Gardens," she said, turning round.

"You always keep reminding me of Sarah. There's nothing between us; anything there ever was is all off long ago…. Are you going for a walk?"

She was glad of the chance to get a mouthful of fresh air, and they went towards the hunting gate. William held it open and she passed through.

The plantations were enclosed by a wooden fence, and beyond them the bare downs rose hill after hill. On the left the land sloped into a shallow valley sown with various crops; and the shaws about Elliot's farm were the last trees. Beyond the farmhouse the downs ascended higher and higher, treeless, irreclaimable, scooped into long patriarchal solitudes, thrown into wild crests.

There was a smell of sheep in the air, and the flock trotted past them in good order, followed by the shepherd, a huge hat and a crook in his hand, and two shaggy dogs at his heels. A brace of partridges rose out of the sainfoin, and flew down the hills; and watching their curving flight Esther and William saw the sea under the sun-setting, and the string of coast towns.

"A lovely evening, isn't it?"

Esther acquiesced; and tempted by the warmth of the grass they sat down, and the mystery of the twilight found way into their consciousness.

"We shan't have any rain yet awhile."

"How do you know?"

"I'll tell you," William answered, eager to show his superior knowledge. "Look due south-west, straight through that last dip in that line of hills. Do you see anything?"

"No, I can see nothing," said Esther, after straining her eyes for a few moments.

"I thought not…. Well, if it was going to rain you would see the Isle of
Wight."

For something to say, and hoping to please, Esther asked him where the race-course was.

"There, over yonder. I can't show you the start, a long way behind that hill, Portslade way; then they come right along by that gorse and finish up by Truly barn—you can't see Truly barn from here, that's Thunder's barrow barn; they go quite half a mile farther."

"And does all that land belong to the Gaffer?"

"Yes, and a great deal more, too; but this down land isn't worth much—not more than about ten shillings an acre."

"And how many acres are there?"

"Do you mean all that we can see?"

"Yes."

"The Gaffer's property reaches to Southwick Hill, and it goes north a long way. I suppose you don't know that all this piece, all that lies between us and that barn yonder, once belonged to my family."

"To your family?"

"Yes, the Latches were once big swells; in the time of my great-grandfather the Barfields could not hold their heads as high as the Latches. My great-grandfather had a pot of money, but it all went."

"Racing?"

"A good bit, I've no doubt. A rare 'ard liver, cock-fighting, 'unting, 'orse-racing from one year's end to the other. Then after 'im came my grandfather; he went to the law, and a sad mess he made of it—went stony-broke and left my father without a sixpence; that is why mother didn't want me to go into livery. The family 'ad been coming down for generations, and mother thought that I was born to restore it; and so I was, but not as she thought, by carrying parcels up and down the King's Road."

Esther looked at William in silent admiration, and, feeling that he had secured an appreciative listener, he continued his monologue regarding the wealth and rank his family had formerly held, till a heavy dew forced them to their feet.