way to the river. As she walked, she wondered at Trivett's strange
conjunction of pursuits; also, if he were as good a farmer as he was
a musician.

She found the part of the river nearest to the church crowded with
holiday bathers, so turned aside in the direction of her nook, where
she was tolerably certain of getting quiet. Arrived there, she found
her expectation was not belied. She felt dazed and tired with the
emotions she had experienced; she reclined on the ground to look
lazily at the beauty spread so bountifully about her.

Nature was now at her best. She was like a fair young mother radiant
with the joys attaching to the birth of her firstborn. The striking
of the quarter on the church clock was borne to her on the light
wind; she heard a rumble and caught a glimpse through the young
foliage of the white panelled carriages of a train speeding to
Weymouth.

She settled herself for a repose of suspended thought, thankful that
there was no prospect of her peace being interfered with. She had
not lain long when she was disturbed by a plashing of water, at
which Jill was vigorously barking.

She raised her head to see a man swimming; her eyes were fascinated
by the whiteness of the man's flesh. After a while, he returned, to
pass and repass her two or three times. Then, to her consternation,
he approached the bank near to where she lay. She sat up; a few
moments later, the man's head and shoulders appeared among the
grasses upon the river bank.