The country folks were much the same as those whom Lady Bell had stared at in the light of a novelty on the occasion of her journey from London to St. Bevis’s. It was not quite a year since then; Lady Bell was still only between fifteen and sixteen, an age, indeed, not very practical, and alternating between rashness and timidity.
She walked on in the lengthening shadows and growing chilliness, not knowing whither she walked, only feeling that she was getting tired and footsore. She resisted, for a wonderful length of time, the perplexity and downcastness which stole over her, and took the place of her foolish satisfaction.
But fatigue and uncertainty increased until they well-nigh overpowered her, and she was in danger of sinking down at any moment in utter exhaustion and consternation, weeping at the prospect of having to stay there all night, and of dying of cold, if she were not murdered by footpads.
At last a country cart, on which a number of pieces of furniture, chests of drawers, and bookcases were piled, indicating the removal from one dwelling to another of some household of condition, came along, and drew up just after it had passed Lady Bell.
She was too inexperienced a traveller, and had been too dispirited to call to the driver and ask him to give her a cast in his cart. When he stopped, her strained nerves caused her heart to beat fast, while she urged her trembling steps to carry her on, as she pretended not to notice the stoppage.
The driver was occupied with a commission and a puzzle of his own. He first peered through the sinking sunbeams, and next shouted after her, leaping from his cart, flinging down his reins—confident in the discretion of his team of horses, running heavily in pursuit, and finally laying a powerful hand on Lady Bell’s shoulder to arrest his object. Happily, he spoke in the same breath, before she shrieked out, with no Squire Trevor near at this time to come to the rescue.
“Holloa! madam, be you parson’s new wife as I was to overtake and pick up, if so be she hadn’t met and ridden on with parson? We ha’ mounted and wedged in the feather bed, ready, where yo’ll sit soft and steady, and I ha’ been told to take you to the town.”
Lady Bell recovered her wits immediately. “No, my good man,” she said; “I think the lady must have met her husband, since it is getting late; but will you let me take her place till we come up with her?”
The man in the smock had pulled his forelock, had looked and spoken simply and kindly, and she believed she could see that she might trust him, while her circumstances would hardly be rendered more wretched though he failed her.
The driver consented without any difficulty, and hoisted her carefully to her seat, where, as the horses jogged on, she could think of nothing for a time but the welcome rest and comparative ease which had succeeded her sore weariness and flagging exertions.