After the smells and smoke and uproar of London the fair English country was like paradise to Antonio. He knew the beautiful Minho of Portugal: but this England was more beautiful still. Once, as they rolled through a village in Bucks, the gracious loveliness of the scene almost broke his heart. The mellow beams of the setting sun were softly caressing the square tower of the church and glorifying the solemn old yews which girt it round. Over all, the motionless, gilded weathercock burned like a flame in a high wind. Children were shouting and playing outside white cottages half hidden under red roses. Up to their knees in murmuring water beside a steep gray bridge, dreamy-eyed cattle swished their tails and chewed their cud. The bright green meadows were enameled with myriads of white and pink and blue and yellow flowers, and the wanton hedgerows wore long streamers of convolvulus and honeysuckle. High in the giant elms rooks cawed steadily with a raucous but homely sound. "Never mind," chaffed Mr. Crowberry, "you'll see her again soon." "Her?" echoed Antonio, starting. "Yes. Her. Teresa or Dolores or Maria or Luiza or Carmen. Don't be down in the dumps. You'll see her again before long." "I think not," said Antonio. But he winced as he realized how nearly the wine-merchant had interpreted his mood. The children's cries, the curling smoke of the homesteads, all the sweet sights and sounds of the village, had awakened in him a vague sense of his lovelessness and loneliness. He was glad when, half an hour later, they reached their inn: and before he surrendered himself to imperious sleep he knelt for a long, long time beside the great mahogany bed and prayed as he had not prayed for many a day. V Altogether, Mr. Crowberry and Antonio sold six thousand pounds' worth of wine. In only three out of the seven-and-forty houses they visited was their reception suspicious or cool. Indeed, their errand was so acceptable that they rarely slept or dined at an inn. Antonio had heard much of English wealth and luxury: but the solid comfort and daily lavishness amazed him. Often on the well-kept roads he would encounter a dashing equipage drawn by high-stepping slender grays and followed by a pack of spotted Dalmatian dogs. Sometimes he got more than a glimpse of rigid, expressionless footmen, powdered and gorgeously appareled, and of bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked ladies in high-waisted dresses and with plumes nodding over their pretty heads. Nor did his post-chaise ever bowl many miles without passing some ivied castle or stately home.