She hurried out in time to see him go rapidly down the hill, almost as far as the old church, and then turn to the right. He was going down "the Hundreds," as the flat, uninteresting district lying to the east of Woodham was termed, through which ran a good, level road. Well, he could not be going far in that direction, and the November afternoon was short. She might yet manage to meet him, and give him an opportunity of admiring her appearance in the smart little crimson hat she had lately received from London.
Clara's father was a solicitor, a man of somewhat ill-repute in his profession, but well-to-do, and Clara, his favourite daughter, and the only one who remained unmarried, had a liberal allowance for her personal expenses. Yet, large as it was, her dressmaker's and milliner's bills often outran it. Clara's mother had died when she was a child, a fact Aldyth always remembered when others were disposed to judge Clara harshly. Her father had not married again, and the girl had grown up with little control save that of sisters as flighty and heedless as herself. If she considered herself to have any duties, they were such as made but the slightest demand upon her time, and she seemed to have no idea of any higher aim in life than that of her own gratification. Aldyth was perhaps right when, in her gentle charity, she spoke of Clara as one to be pitied rather than blamed.
It was a mild November afternoon. Clara sauntered slowly down the hill, and, turning to the left, came on to the bank of the river. It was a tidal river, and when, as now, it was high water, the red roofs of the houses and the barges on the river with their large ochre-coloured sails gave to the little town somewhat of the appearance of a Dutch village. The sky was grey but clear, and the subtle; melancholy charm of autumn pervaded the scene; but Clara was not conscious of its beauty as was Aldyth, who had just come out of one the cottages on the shore, and stood gazing up the river. So true is it that the eye perceives beauty only as the mind inspires its vision. Clara lacked the imagination that can behold—
"A light that never was on sea or land."
Aldyth heard a step on the shingle, but not till she turned rather suddenly, remembering that she had several cottages to visit that afternoon, did she see Clara. The girls came face to face within a few feet of each other. Aldyth moved by with a bow and the words:
"A lovely afternoon, is it not?"
"Very," responded Clara, coolly.
She was annoyed that Aldyth passed without saying more.
"She need not avoid me as if I had the plague," she said to herself.