CHAPTER XVIII 



Back to the West Country 



My object gained, I quitted the little Hampshire 

 village the richer for three prized memories : first 

 and best was that of the people I had been staying 

 with in their cottage ; next in order of merit, the image 

 of those little feathered fairies in a vocal rage ; and last, 

 that of five white or cream-coloured cows issuing from 

 some small or cottage farm at the side of the heath, 

 driven or followed by a young woman to their daily 

 grazing-place on some distant part of the moor. Every 

 morning they appeared from among the green foliage 

 of trees and shrubs, behind which the homestead was 

 hidden, to take their slow way over the wide brown 

 heath in a scattered procession, always followed by that 

 young woman, tall and straight, her head uncovered, 

 her limp gown of a whitey-grey colour almost like the 

 white of the cows. A beautiful strange spectacle, 

 seen from afar as they moved across the moor in the 

 dewy shimmering light of the early sun. They had a 

 misty appearance, and there was something, too, of 

 mystery in it, due perhaps to association — to some dim 

 suggestion of ancient human happenings, in a time 



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