"If I had been a village girl I might have been a good woman," she thought, walking up to the porch; "but I daresay I should have tired of this innocent sweetness and gone up to the evil life of London, as all village beauties have done." On knocking at the door it was opened shortly by a tiny woman, old, shrivelled, and evil-looking enough to have been the witch of the cottage. Not that Mrs. Belk was ill-looking; on the contrary, she must have been pretty when young, for she still retained a sufficiency of beauty to warrant a second glance; but there was a restless look in her dark eyes, a settled sneer on her thin lips, and a generally discontented expression on her face which repelled the onlooker. Mrs. Belswin had an intuitive capability of reading faces, and the first glance she threw on this little figure with the withered face put her at once on her guard. On her guard against a cottager! Mrs. Belswin would have laughed at the idea. Still, the fact remains that Mrs. Belk bore her character in her face, and Mrs. Belswin at once put herself on her guard against Mrs. Belk. Hardly probable that these two women would meet again. The cottager could never have it in her power to harm the lady; but in spite of the absurdity of the situation, Mrs. Belswin, with that inherent suspicion created by a long life of duplicity and watchfulness, did not think it beneath her dignity to pick and choose her words while talking to this humble woman, in case chance should turn her into a possible enemy. "I beg your pardon," she said slowly; "but I am very tired, and would like to rest." "There's a public a little way on, ma'am," replied Mrs. Belk, respectfully, by no means inclined to entertain a stranger. "I prefer to rest here," said Mrs. Belswin, coolly. "You know me, I daresay--Miss Pethram's companion." "Mrs. Belsin?" said the old woman, doubtfully. "Let the lady come in, mother," remarked the slow soft voice of a man inside the cottage. "Don't you see she looks tired?" Whereupon Mrs. Belk with manifest reluctance moved to one side, and Miss Pethram's companion entered the room to find herself face to face with the handsomest man she had ever seen. He offered her a chair in silence, and she sat down thankfully, while Mrs. Belk closed the door, and the rustic Apollo stood leaning against the table looking at their visitor.