exceptionally endowed with the instincts of a refined nature, one whose
only glimpses of the world had been gathered from the street of a small
provincial town, was it to be wondered at that to her the varied sights
and sounds around her seemed like the pageantry of a dream?

"'Tis a blue and gold world," she murmured, "and I'm glad I have seen
it before I die, but I can't think why the people look so dull and
cross."

Although she was unconscious of it, she was herself an object of
interest to the hurrying passers-by. Many of them turned round to look
at the picturesque peasant woman, with her country gown and quaint
headgear.

"A woman come down from the hills," said a lady to her companion, as
Sara passed them, for a moment raising her eyes to theirs.

"And what a sweet face, and what wonderful eyes, so dark and blue.
There is something touching in that smooth fringe of grey hair."

But Sara passed on unheeding. She was now in a quieter street, and as
she passed under the high grey walls of the jail, the prison van
crossed her path. The heavy iron doors opened and it passed out of her
sight; the doors closed with a soft click and a turn of the key, and
Sara went on her way with a sigh.

"There are grey and black shadows in the making of it, too," she said,
and hurried on.

Once or twice she stopped to ask her way of a passer-by.