“The look that came to her face was one of fear--of absolute terror. I was frightened, and began to think that there were perhaps graver reasons than I had ever fancied for our exile. It took her some moments to recover from the shock that my suggestion had given her, and then she said, 'You must never think of such a thing as possible. I shall never see England again!'” “Poor woman! Ah, what it is laid on woman to bear!” said Agnes. “And she would have been so happy if it had not been for her faithlessness. If she had only trusted the true man who loved her, she would have been happy. I fear that she cannot ever have been happy with your father.” “She never spoke to me of him.” Clare spoke in a low tone. “He died when you were a child--so much, I think, was taken for granted,” said Agnes. “I have always taken it for granted,” said Clare. “Oh yes; I remember asking about him when I was quite young, and my mother told me that I had no father.” “Then you must assume that he is dead,” said Agnes; “and pray that you may never have sufficient curiosity to lead you to seek to know more about him.” Clare looked at her with some surprise on her face. “What! You know”--she began. “I know nothing,” said Agnes quickly, interrupting her. “I have heard that he was not a good man, and I know that if he had had anything of good in his nature, your mother would not have parted from him. But he is dead, and we have no need to talk about him. Now let me tell you the names of all the places we can see from here.” They had driven to the summit of one of the low Brackenshire hills, and from there Agnes pointed out the various landmarks. Far away to the north the great manufacturing town of Linnborough lay beneath the great shadow of its own smoke, and to the right the exquisite spire of Scarchester Cathedral was seen, and by the side of the old minster ran the river Leet. All through the valley lay the villages of Nessvale, with its Norman church, from the tower of which the curfew is still rung; Green-ledge, with its tall maypole, and Holmworth, with its grey castle and moat. Then on every hand were to be seen the splendid park lands surrounding the manor houses, the broad meadows, the brown furrowed fields of Brackenshire, with here and there a farmhouse, and down where the Lambeck flowed, a brown mill with its slow-moving water wheel. The quacking of ducks that swam in the little stream was borne up from the valley at intervals and mingled with the melancholy whistle of a curlew, and the occasional notes of a robin sitting on a gate at the side of the road. “England--England--this is England!” cried Clare. “I never wish to see any other land so long as I live. Ah, my poor mother! This is what she was longing to see before she died.” Agnes did not speak. She knew that the girl saw all the incidents of the English landscape through a mist of tears.