'Miss Kennedy, if you will change places with Mr. Falkirk now you will be rewarded. I have something here a great deal better than that book.'
'I have not been reading—I have been watching for landmarks for some time,' she said, as she made the change; 'but I think I can never have gone to Chickaree by this road.'
The change was great. However fair it had looked from withinside, as soon as she got out on the front seat Wych Hazel found that a flood of bright, slant sunbeams were searching out all the beauty there was in the land, and winning it into view. It was one of those illuminated hours, that are to the common day as an old painted and jewelled missal to an ordinary black letter.
'Is it better than your book?' said the charioteer, whose reins were clearly only play to him, and who was much more occupied with his companion. She glanced round at him, with the very June evening in her eyes, dews and sunbeams and all.
'Better than most of the books that ever were written, I suppose. But the book was not bad, Mr. Rollo.'
'What book was it? to be mentioned in the connection.'
' "I Promessi Sposi." '
'Unknown to me. Give me an idea of it—while we are getting up this hill—there'll be something else to talk of afterwards.'
'Two people are betrothed, and proceed to get into all manner of difficulties. That is the principal idea so far. I haven't come to the turn of the story, which takes the thread out of its tangle.'
'A very stupid idea! Yet you said the book was not a bad book?' he said, looking gravely round upon her.