"This lane was never meant for carriages, Sir Mark," cried Sir Thomas, hastily. "The last time I had it brought down here, my two stout horses dragged the fore wheels from the body." "The ruts are ready to drag my legs from my body, Sir Thomas; and, fiends and torture, what blocks! Why, what rock is that?" "Refuse or cinder from the iron forges, Sir Mark," replied the baronet, with the air of a guide. "In this district, sir, the finest iron is found in abundance just below the surface." "And you own a goodly portion of the land, Sir Thomas?" said Sir Mark, with an involuntary glance at the lady. "Well, yes," replied the baronet with a round look of satisfaction; "I have a fair number of acres and some wide-spread forest land for timber and charcoal-burning should I care to smelt." "Happy man," said Sir Mark. "'Tis a pleasant life down here in these woods. But Mistress Anne, is it not dull in winter?" "Oh, yes, Sir Mark, so dull; and we are shut in at times for weeks." "No wonder with such roads as these. Sir Thomas, have you no pity for your daughter's state?" "The weather has come in hot," said Sir Thomas, carefully taking off his plumed hat. "But we are just there now; shall we rest awhile?" "Ay, that we will. Mistress Anne, here is a fallen tree with waving bracken and the shining leaves of the beech to shelter you from the sun. There, am I right--is that oak--are those bracken fronds?" "Quite right," said the lady addressed, as, either from the action of her heart or the warmth of the sun, she blushed deeply, the red glow spreading up to the deep auburn, fuzzy hair that gathered over her freckled forehead. Then carefully spreading her skirts she seated herself upon the fallen trunk of a huge oak that had been felled the previous winter, judging by the state of the chips that still lay around, the branches having been lopped, cut into short lengths, and piled into a long low stack. "Ah, that is restful," said Sir Mark, smiling down at the lady, while the baronet glanced from one to the other, dabbed his face, and then pressed down the feather-stuffed breeches that puffed out his hips; also his best, put on in honour of his visitor from town, but evidently unpleasant wear in the hot and airless lane. "May I sit by thee, sweet--or at your feet?" whispered Sir Mark, with a glance at the angular oak-chips blackened by the action of the iron-impregnated water that sometimes rushed down the lane. For answer Mistress Anne uttered a shriek, rose quickly, and half threw herself in the young man's arms. "A snake--a viper--an adder," she cried, as, raising its head and uttering a low hiss, a reptile some two feet or so long glided from beneath the tree and disappeared amidst the rustling ferns.