"Leave it now, and save yourself this fresh disaster and suffering."

"So be it! I cannot but remember that there have been many disasters--
more than can be counted on the fingers of my two hands--which I would
have saved myself if I had listened when I turned a deaf ear to you.
But tell me, do you mind just a little more innocent play on my part--
just a little picture of, say, one of the villages viewed a while ago
from under the cloud--or perhaps two?"

And Psyche, my sister, having won _her_ point and pacified me, and
conquered my scruples and gloom, and seeing me now submissive, smiled a
gracious consent.




XIII

HER OWN VILLAGE


One afternoon when cycling among the limestone hills of Derbyshire I
came to an unlovely dreary-looking little village named Chilmorton. It
was an exceptionally hot June day and I was consumed with thirst: never
had I wanted tea so badly. Small gritstone-built houses and cottages of
a somewhat sordid aspect stood on either side of the street, but there
was no shop of any kind and not a living creature could I see. It was
like a village of the dead or sleeping. At the top of the street I came
to the church standing in the middle of its church yard with the