THE village of Warton is situated on the river, about three miles from the cathedral town of Lindum, and commands a good view of the cathedral towers, and, from its highest ground, a wide outlook over the Fens. It slopes upwards from the river to the summit of a little hill, on the side of which are the church-tower, and the trees round the old grey Hall; and, to the left, the irregular village street, with its old-fashioned roofs of red tiles, or of thatch, the churchyard gates, and the old village tree beneath which are some ancient stone steps, once surmounted by a cross. Below the hill the road, which is at a right angle to this principal street of the village, pursues on one side its way to the town, at some distance from the triple lines of the river, railway, and canal; and, on the other, winding to a greater distance from them finds its way out into the great stretch of Fenland, which is bordered on the far horizon by the blue line of the Wolds. It is a quiet village, whose inhabitants are more artisan than agricultural; for the town of Lindum, although three miles away, is near enough to supply them with employment, to which the men and lads tramp through the darkness of winter mornings, or the pale light and mists of the earlier summer dawns. Here, then, in this place had Jenny Salter lived, although she was not by descent a native of the village, for her father, Nat Phillips, had once lived close to London, and had only by accident drifted to the north. He had happened to hear, through a friend, when he was out of work, of some foundry employment that could be found in Lindum, and, the result of his journey proving beyond his hopes, he had settled down in the village near the town. The country people are habitually averse to strangers; they looked with suspicion upon this unknown workman, and would not admit him to any intimacy. It was only when years had proved his harmlessness; and, more especially, after he had married a village girl, that they condescended to be favourable, and could be heard to say that they knew ‘no harm’ of him. By this time, however, the timid, delicate Phillips had become obscured from another cause, he was hidden from sight by the superior qualities of the lady who went by the name of ‘Mrs Nat.’