'Angry with you, papa? as if I had any right to be angry with you!
Only try to love me a little, as you used to do, and I shall be
quite happy.'

'I shall never love you less, my dear.'

The journey was not a long one; and the country through which we
passed was very fair to look upon in the bright June afternoon. The
landscape changed when we were within about thirty miles of our
destination: the fertile farmlands and waving fields of green corn
gave place to an open moor, and I felt from far off the fresh breath
of the ocean. This broad undulating moorland was new to me, and I
thought there was a wild kind of beauty in its loneliness. As for
Milly, she looked out at the moor with rapture, and strained her
eyes to catch the first glimpse of the hills about Thornleigh--those
hills of which she had talked to me so often in her little room at
school.

The station we had to stop at was ten miles from Mr. Darrell's
house, and a barouche-and-pair was waiting for us in the sunny road
outside. We drove along a road that crossed the moor, until we came
to a little village of scattered houses, with a fine old church--at
one end of which an ancient sacristy seemed mouldering slowly to
decay. We drove past the gates of two or three rather important
houses, lying half-hidden in their gardens, and then turned sharply
off into a road that went up a hill, nearly at the top of which we
came to a pair of noble old carved iron gates, surmounted with a
coat-of-arms, and supported on each side by massive stone pillars,
about which the ivy twined lovingly.