During these long, aimless rambles, what Joss’ thoughts were, who can say? Undoubtedly he recalled such excursions in ecstatic dreams. Wynyard, for his part, took many pleasure trips into the land of fancy, and there, amidst its picturesque glamour and all its doubts, distractions, and hopes, his sole companion was Aurea! Nothing but the hope of her return sustained and kept him day after day, pacing the Manor yard, in a sense _her_ prisoner! His devotion would have amazed his sister; she could not have believed that Owen, of all people, would have been so enslaved by a girl, could have become a dumb, humble worshipper, satisfied to listen to her laugh, to catch a radiant glance of her dark eyes, and, when he closed the door of the car, to shield her dainty skirt with reverent fingers. Presently there came a spell of bad weather, the rain sweeping across the country in great grey gusts and eddying whirls, moaning and howling through the village, making the venerable trees in Mrs. Hogben’s orchard quite lively in their old age, lashing each other with their hoary arms, in furious play. It was impossible for Wynyard to spend the entire evening indoors over Mrs. Hogben’s fire, listening to tales of when “she was in service,” though he was interested to hear that Miss Alice Parrett as was--Mrs. Morven--“was the best of the bunch, and there wasn’t a dry eye when she was buried.” He also learned that Mr. Morven was rich for a parson, and had once kept a curate, well paid, too; but the curate had been terribly in love with Miss Aurea, and of course she wouldn’t look at him--a little red-haired, rat-faced fellow! and so he had gone away, and there was no more regular curate, only weekends, when Mr. Morven went abroad for his holiday. And now and then Mrs. Hogben would fall into heartrending reminiscences of her defunct pigs. “Afore _you_ come, Jack, I kep’ pigs,” she informed him; “one a year. I bought un at Brodfield--a nice little fellow--for fifteen shillings to a pound, and fattened un up, being so much alone all day, I could never help making sort of free with the pig, and petting un. He always knew me, and would eat out of my hand, and was a sort of companion, ye see?” “Yes,” assented Wynyard, though he did not see, for in his mind’s eye he was contemplating Aurea Morven. “Well, of course, he grew fat, and ready for the butcher, and when he was prime, he had to go--but it just broke my heart, so it did; for nights before I couldn’t sleep for crying,” here she became lachrymose; “but it had to be, and me bound to be about when the men came, and the cries and yells of him nigh drove me wild; though, of course, once he was scalded and hung up, and a fine weight, it wor a nice thing to have one’s own pork and bacon.” Her companion nodded sympathetically.