In another moment the horses stopped at The World's End, and showed by a merry jingle of their bells that they knew the day's work was done. It was still broad daylight, and Seth set so much store upon the children being as much as they could in the open air, that, after arranging for the night's accommodation at The World's End, he and Sally and the Duchess started for a walk through the country lanes. There was sufficient beauty within the immediate vicinity of The World's End to engage their attention and admiration, and Seth, fearful of over-fatiguing the Duchess, so directed his steps as to keep Springfield always in view--whereby he was sure that he was never very far from the inn in which they were to pass the night. It thus happened that they frequently skirted the immediate boundaries of the estate--here formed by a close-knit hedge through which a hare could not have made its way, here by a natural creek, with stalwart trees on the Springfield side, here by a stone wall, in lieu of a more natural defence against encroachment. It was a quiet and peaceful evening, and after a couple of hours of almost restful sauntering, so little of labour was there in their mode of going about, they came suddenly upon a narrow lane, bounded by a broken hedge. The prospect was so pretty, and the glimpse of green trees forming an archway some twenty yards distant was so inviting, that Seth, without a thought of trespass, lifted the Duchess and Sally over the hedge, and followed them. A gipsy woman, sitting within the shadow of the arch of trees, would probably have called for no special attention, had not the Duchess--upon whom the flashing eyes, the dark sunburnt face, stern and sombre in its aspect, the shining black hair but slightly covered with the usual red handkerchief, and the generally bold air which pervaded the woman, produced an effect little less than terrifying--clasped Seth's hand in fear, and strove to pull him back. "Don't be frightened, Duchess," said Seth, soothing; "it's only a gipsy."