A HARE IN THE SNOW 



snow — which formed a corner of the great park of the 

 lord of the manor, Sir Edmund Wing. Before him, 

 twelve miles distant, rolled the great range of the South 

 Downs, their smooth, rounded contours, now white 

 with snow, showing up boldly against the dark and 

 lowering sky. The ancient footpath which led across 

 this angle of the park was hidden by snowfalls ; but 

 Thomas had traversed it a thousand times, and had no 

 difficulty in making out his way. He saw little on his 

 march to divert his gloomy thoughts, although his eyes 

 and senses were alert enough. A flight of fieldfares, 

 chattering round a great haw-bush in the woodland, 

 from whose berries they were devouring a hearty meal, 

 attracted his attention. He looked hungrily at them ; 

 half a dozen of them would make a delicate meal for 

 his sick wife ; but, at the moment, he had no means 

 of killing a single one of them, and with a sigh he 

 passed them by. As he crossed the corner of the park 

 his gaze not unnaturally wandered to the great house 

 of Cleathercote, a corner of which, half a mile away 

 among the trees, caught his eye. Within those warm, 

 red-brick, castellated walls dwelt, in high comfort and 

 honour, Sir Edmund Wing. Thomas Goodwin sighed 

 again to himself; the load of his present misery lay 

 chiefly at the charge of the knight, who had had much 

 to do with the ousting of the priors and the dissolution 

 of their establishment, and who had bought up his 

 late master the yeoman, and now refused him work, 

 and that in the most pitiless winter for many a long 

 year. 



Just before he came to the high stile which gave exit 

 from the park to the arable fields beyond, Goodwin 

 suddenly halted. Something in the snow arrested his 

 attention. His blue eyes glittered as he noted the tale 

 spread out there so plainly upon the white surface. A 



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