The bird, as she placed the rice in a small tin attached to his perch, took hold of her finger with his beak, and tried to perch himself upon her hand. She pushed him gently back and smoothed his feathers, "No, no," said she. "It's too cold for you outside, you would wish yourself at home again, although you do love me, and are the only living thing that does." And another dark expression flitted across her face.
She put on the bonnet and grey cloak, and taking a thick staff in her hand, went out.
The air was cold and frosty. The snow of the day before had melted away, and the ground in consequence of the thaw and subsequent frost was very slippery; but she walked bravely and steadily on, with the help of her staff, scarcely ever making a false step. At the outskirts of the wood was a small gate leading on to a footpath which ran across the park, making a short cut from the valley to the village. Here she paused, and looked hastily about her.
Now Goody Grey had never been known or seen to enter the Park, yet she paused evidently undecided as to which path she should pursue, the long or the short one. At length she resolved upon taking the long one; and shaking her head she muttered, "No, no; may be I'll be in time the other way;" and on she went as steadily as before, on through the village and up by the church-yard; nor stayed, nor slackened her walk until she gained the large gates and lodge of Brampton Park; then she halted and gazed up the road.
Notwithstanding the time it had taken to come round, probably half an hour, yet the carriage she had heard approaching in the distance had only just reached the bottom of the hill, the road taking a long round after leaving the wood. It came on slowly, the coachman being evidently afraid to trust his horses over the slippery road. Slowly it approached, and eagerly was it scanned by the old woman at the gates. Presently it was quite close, and then came to a stand still, while the great lodge bell rang out; and Goody Grey advanced to the window, and looked in.
On one side sat two rather elderly ladies; on the other an effeminate looking young man and a girl. These were evidently not the people she expected to see, for a shade of vexation and disappointment crossed her face. After scanning the countenances of each, she fixed her eyes on the young girl with an angry, menacing look, difficult to define, which the latter bore for some moments without flinching; then turning her head away, she addressed one of the ladies sitting opposite her.
"Have you no pence, Mamma? Pray do give this wretched being some, and let us get rid of her."
"I do not think I have, Frances, nor indeed if I had would I give her any. I make a point of never encouraging vagrants; she ought to be in the Union, the proper place for people of her stamp. I have no doubt she is an impostor, she looks like it, there are so many about now; we are overrun with them."
"Well, Mamma, if you won't give her any, pray desire Porter to drive on. What is he waiting for?"
"My dear, they have not opened the gates. There goes the bell again."