When tea was over, Audrey accompanied Mr. O'Brien round his small domain, while he proudly commented on the flourishing state of his fruit and vegetables. Before she left the cottage she contrived to exchange a few words with Mrs. Baxter, who had remained in the house, and whom she found in the tiny kitchen washing up the best cups and saucers. 'Girls are mostly careless, Miss Ross,' she explained in an apologetic manner; 'and Hannah is no better than the rest, so I always wash up mother's china myself. It would worry me more than I am already if a cup were to be broken.' 'I am so sorry to hear your husband has been troubling you again, Mrs. Baxter.' 'Yes, indeed, Miss Ross, and it is a crying shame for Joe to persecute me as he does. Sometimes I feel I must just run away and hide myself, his visits put me into such a nervous state. It is so bad for father, too. He is not as young as he used to be, and since mother's death there has been a great change in him. Last time Joe came he put himself out terribly, and was for taking the stick to him. I was all in a tremble--I was indeed, Miss Ross--for Joe had been drinking, and father's a powerful man, and there might have been mischief.' 'I think your husband must be made to understand that he is to leave you alone.' 'Oh, you don't know what men are, Miss Ross. They are over-fond of their own way. Joe does not find things comfortable without me, and then he is always so greedy for money. The ways of Providence are very dark and mysterious. When I married Joe I expected as much happiness as other women. He was so pleasant-spoken, had such a way with him, that even father and mother were deceived in him; he never took anything but his tankard of home-brewed ale at our place, and he was so trim and so well set up that all the girls were envying me. But the day I wore my gray silk dress to go with him to church was the most unfortunate day of my life. Mother would far better have laid me in my shroud,' finished Mrs. Baxter, with a homely tragedy that was impressive enough in its way. 'Oh, you must not say that,' returned Audrey hastily. 'Life will not always be so hard, I hope;' and then she shook hands with the poor woman. Audrey enjoyed her walk back. It was a delicious evening, and the birds were singing from every brake and hedgerow. Once or twice she heard the harsh call of the corncrake mingled with the flute-like notes of the thrush; a lark was carolling high up in the blue sky--by and by she heard him descend. Audrey walked swiftly down the long grass lanes, and, as she neared Rutherford she could see a dim man's figure in the distance. Of course it was Michael coming to meet her, attended by his faithful Booty. Audrey smiled and quickened her pace. She was quite used to these small attentions, this brotherly surveillance on Michael's part--she was never surprised to find him at some unexpected point waiting patiently for her.