"I am content."
"But why should it be thus?" Prudence said, almost piteously.
"Why? Dear mouse, I have told you. He and I never did agree; 'twas ever something wrong on one side or the other; and wherefore should not he look around for a gentler companion? 'Twere a wonder should he do aught else; and now he hath shown more wisdom than ever I laid to his credit."
"But the ungraciousness of his going, Judith," said the gentle Prudence, who could in no wise understand the apparent coolness with which Judith seemed to regard the desperate thing that had taken place.
"Heaven have mercy! why should that trouble you if it harm not me?" was the instant answer. "My spirits are not like to be dashed down for want of a 'fare you well.' In good sooth, he had given you so much of his courtesy and fair speeches that perchance he had none to spare for others."
By this time they were come to the little wooden gate leading into the garden; and it was no wonder they should pause in passing through that to regard the bewildering and glowing luxuriance of foliage and blossom, though this was but a cottage inclosure, and none of the largest. The air seemed filled with the perfume of this summer abundance; and the clear sunlight shone on the various masses of color—roses red and white, pansies, snapdragon, none-so-pretty, sweet-williams of every kind, to say nothing of the clustering honeysuckle that surrounded the cottage door.
"Was't not worth the trouble, sweetheart?" Judith said. "Indeed, the good dame does well to be proud of such a pageant."
As she spoke her grandmother suddenly made her appearance, glancing sharply from one to the other of them.
"Welcome, child, welcome," she said, "and to you, sweet Mistress Shawe."
And yet she did not ask them to enter the cottage; there was some kind of hesitation about the old dame's manner that was unusual.