The country people trudged by, and noticed nothing amiss; but Gerard, as
he passed, drew conclusions. Even dress tells a tale to those who study
it so closely as he did, being an illuminator. The old man wore a gown,
and a fur tippet, and a velvet cap, sure signs of dignity; but the
triangular purse at his girdle was lean, the gown rusty, the fur worn,
sure signs of poverty. The young woman was dressed in plain russet
cloth: yet snow-white lawn covered that part of her neck the gown left
visible, and ended half way up her white throat in a little band of gold
embroidery; and her head-dress was new to Gerard: instead of hiding her
hair in a pile of linen or lawn, she wore an open network of silver cord
with silver spangles at the interstices: in this her glossy auburn hair
was rolled in front into two solid waves, and supported behind in a
luxurious and shapely mass. His quick eye took in all this, and the old
man's pallor, and the tears in the young woman's eyes. So when he had
passed them a few yards, he reflected, and turned back, and came towards
them bashfully.

"Father, I fear you are tired."

"Indeed, my son, I am," replied the old man, "and faint for lack of
food."

Gerard's address did not appear so agreeable to the girl as to the old
man. She seemed ashamed, and with much reserve in her manner, said,
that it was her fault--she had underrated the distance, and imprudently
allowed her father to start too late in the day.

"No, no," said the old man; "it is not the distance, it is the want of
nourishment."