She placed the large bouquet of flowers on the settle and turned to depart. Mrs. Trembath placed her hand on the dark, raven locks of the squire's daughter as she stood on the portico step.
"And may God's blessing attend you, Mistress Vivian, for your kind and charitable spirit, and may your father be imbued with the same!"
Ande accompanied her to the pony chaise. His righteous indignation against the squire was mitigated by this unexpected visit and by the flowers. He had coveted only a single blossom; here was a gorgeous bunch from her very hand.
They made a pretty picture, standing without the gate, in the rays of the setting sun. The pony stood patiently waiting near the hedge, occasionally nibbling a choice bit of herbage that seemed to seek safety from his investigating jaws in the rough rock crevices.
"I thank you very much; the flowers are very beautiful."
"And you will not think hard of my father."
The youth was silent and bit his lip; then avoiding the question, he answered:
"It was not the stocks, but the accusation and the condemnation, that has made all people look down on me."
"Oh, Master Trembath——"