But behind them, through a thick network of foliage, there were gleams and sparkles of gold, touching tenderly some favourite leaves with a green like the green of spring, and throwing the rest into a shadowy blackness against the half-smothered light. Marian ran into the house to call Hannah, begging her to guide them up into the wood. Agnes, less curious, stood with her hand upon the gate, looking down over this wonderful valley, and wondering if she had not seen it some time in a dream. “Bless you, miss, if it was to the world’s end!” cried Hannah; “but it ain’t fit for walking, no more nor a desert; the roads is woeful by Badgeley; look you here!--nought in this wide world but mud and clay.” Marian looked in dismay at the muddy road. “It will not be dry for a week,” said the disappointed beauty; “but, Hannah, come here, now that I have got you out, and tell us what every place is--Agnes, here’s Hannah--and, if you please, which is the village, and which is the Hall, and where is the Old Wood House?” “Do you see them white chimneys--and smokes?” said Hannah; “they’re a-cooking their dinner just, though tea-time’s past--that’s the Rector’s. But, bless your heart, you ain’t likely to see the Hall from here. There’s all the park and all the trees atween us and my lord’s.” “Do the people like him, Hannah?” asked Agnes abruptly, thinking of her friend. Hannah paused with a look of alarm. “The people--don’t mind nothink about him,” said Hannah slowly. “Bless us, miss, you gave me such a turn!”