The expected catastrophe meant little more
to such folk than the coming of the Judgment Day--certain, but
infinitely remote from the grasp of the imagination.
* * * * *
The three were talking of Robin as they came down towards the house for
supper, and, as they turned the corner, he himself was at that moment
dismounting.
He looked surprisingly cool and well-trimmed, considering his ride up
the hot valley. He had taken his journey easily, he said, as he had had
a long day yesterday.
"And I made a round to pay a visit to Mistress Manners," he said. "I
found her a-bed when I got there; and Mrs. Alice says she will not be at
mass to-morrow. She stood too long in the sun yesterday, at the carrying
of the hay; it is no more than that."
"Mistress Manners is a marvel to me," said Garlick, as they went towards
the house. "Neither wife nor nun. And she rules her house like a man;
and she knows if a priest lift his little finger in Derby. She sent me
my whole itinerary for this last circuit of mine; and every point fell
out as she said."
* * * * *
Robin thought that he had seldom had so pleasant a supper as on that
night. The windows of the low hall where he had dined so often as a boy,
were flung wide to catch the scented evening air. The sun was round to
the west and threw long, golden rays, that were all lovely light and no
heat, slantways on the paved floor and the polished tables and the
bright pewter.
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