gazed on the group, he little dreamed of the fierce and dark emotions with
which, at a far distant period, he was destined to revisit that spot.

"Our peasants," said he, as they rode on, "require some humanising
relaxation like that we have witnessed. The music and the morris-dance
have gone from England; and instead of providing, as formerly, for the
amusement of the grinded labourer, our legislators now regard with the
most watchful jealousy his most distant approach to festivity. They
cannot bear the rustic to be merry: disorder and amusement are words for
the same offence."

"I doubt," said the earnest Constance, "whether the legislators are not
right. For men given to amusement are easily enslaved. All noble
thoughts are grave."

Thus talking, they passed a shallow ford in the stream. "We are not far
from the Priory," said Godolphin, pointing to its ruins, that rose greyly
in the evening skies from the green woods around it.

Constance sighed involuntarily. She felt pain in being reminded of the
slender fortunes of her companion. Ascending the gentle hill that swelled
from the stream, she now, to turn the current of her thoughts, pointed
admiringly to the blue course of the waters, as they wound through their
shagged banks. And deep, dark, rushing, even at that still hour, went the
stream through the boughs that swept over its surface. Here and there the
banks suddenly shelved down, mingling with the waves; then abruptly they
rose, overspread with thick and tangled umbrage, several feet above the
level of the river.

"How strange it is," said Godolphin, that at times a feeling comes over