whom he had not noticed; she, recognizing the vicar, pursued with
light, quick step, and soon overtook him.

"How do you do, Mr. Lashmar!"

"Why--Miss Bride!" exclaimed the vicar. "What a long time since we
saw you! Have you just come?"

"I'm on a little holiday. How are you? And how is Mrs. Lashmar?"

Miss Bride had a soberly decisive way of speaking, and an aspect
which corresponded therewith; her figure was rather short,
well-balanced, apt for brisk movement; she held her head very
straight, and regarded the world with a pair of dark eyes suggestive
of anything but a sentimental nature. Her grey dress, black jacket,
and felt hat trimmed with a little brown ribbon declared the
practical woman, who thinks about her costume only just as much as
is needful; her dark-brown hair was coiled in a plait just above the
nape, as if neatly and definitely put out of the way. She looked
neither more nor less than her age, which was eight and twenty. At
first sight her features struck one as hard and unsympathetic,
though tolerably regular; watching her as she talked or listened,
one became aware of a mobility which gave large expressiveness,
especially in the region of the eyebrows, which seemed to move with
her every thought. Her lips were long, and ordinarily compressed in
the line of conscious self-control. She had a very shapely neck, the
skin white and delicate; her facial complexion was admirably pure
and of warmish tint.

"And where are you living, Miss Bride?" asked Mr. Lashmar, regarding