The ground was dry, because frozen; and a slight fall of snow had taken place. Each tiny twig bore its little clothing on the upper side, of delicate whiteness; and the ground sparkled, as if strewn with diamonds, in the sunshine. A good many clouds were scattered over the sky, one and another passing from time to time over the face of the sun; but each brief shadow was followed by renewed brightness.
"Not a bad day," Mildred decided. "And winter cannot last much longer now. A few weeks will see us well into spring."
She walked on, musing after her favourite fashion, keeping up a good pace, and covering a greater distance than she quite realized.
Hero walked close at her heels, after his usual fashion; and with him she never minded where she went, for no man would ever have dared to molest her while Hero was at hand. Gentle as the dog looked and was, he would have made short work of anybody who should have threatened harm to his mistress. He would let a little child tug his hair and poke its fingers into his eyes, with unlimited patience; but his grip could be deadly, if occasion called for it. This was understood in the country round, since one day when Hero found that a man in a lonely lane had evil intent towards Mildred. That man had a narrow escape of his life.
Mildred suddenly woke up to the fact of how fast and how far she had walked. The sun was dipping below the horizon, and the air had begun to gain an extra sharpness, suggestive of approaching night.
"I must be going back," Mildred said aloud; but she felt rather tired, and paused, to lean against the low parapet of a bridge, where the road passed over a stream.
She determined to give herself three minutes' rest, and then to return as fast as she had come.
Hero laid himself down at her feet, to await her pleasure.
It was singularly still. Hardly a breath of air stirred; hardly a twig of any bush moved. The brightness of sunlight, causing snow-sparkles all around, had now vanished, and the whole landscape lay under a grey shadow, which momentarily deepened. She would scarcely get back to the village before dark; but with Hero at her side, this did not matter; and Mildred enjoyed keen cold. It braced her up, she said.
The water of the sluggish little stream below ran quietly, with barely power to make itself heard. It was not a singing brook, though the water moved. Such frost as there was had not been able to bind it into stillness; but a little harder frost would succeed with so slow a brook.