seen. It shone on the side of a hill - in the heart of an open
wilderness - as solitary as a beacon-light at sea. It was the light
of the cottage which was to be my temporary home.

A very tall, gaunt woman stood in the doorway against the inner
glow. She advanced with a loose, long stride, and invited me to
enter in a voice harsh (I took it) from disuse. I was warming
myself before the kitchen fire when she came in carrying my heaviest
box as though it had nothing in it. I ran to take it from her, for
the box was full of books, but she shook her head, and was on the
stairs with it before I could intercept her.

I conceive that very few men are attracted by abnormal strength in
a woman; we cannot help it; and yet it was not her strength which
first repelled me in Mrs. Braithwaite. It was a combination of
attributes. She had a poll of very dirty and untidy red hair; her
eyes were set close together; she had the jowl of the traditional
prize-fighter. But far more disagreeable than any single feature
was the woman's expression, or rather the expression which I caught
her assuming naturally, and banishing with an effort for my benefit.
To me she was strenuously civil in her uncouth way. But I saw her
give her husband one look, as he staggered in with my comparatively
light portmanteau, which she instantly snatched out of his feeble
arms. I saw this look again before the evening was out, and it was
such a one as Braithwaite himself had fixed upon his horse as he
flogged it up the hills.

I began to wonder how the young squire had found it in his conscience
to recommend such a pair. I wondered less when the woman finally
ushered me upstairs to my rooms. These were small and rugged, but