The creature was
well mounted (ominous, when he came to override my caprice!) and he
looked bigger, and, yes, handsomer, though that doesn't signify, and
still more determined than when I saw him last; although goodness knows
that timidity and feebleness of purpose were not in striking evidence on
that memorable occasion. I had drawn up under the shade of a tree
ostensibly to eat some cherries, thinking that if I turned my face away I
might pass unrecognised. It was a stupid plan, for if I had whipped up
the mare and driven on, he of course, would have had to follow, and he
has too much dignity and self-respect to shriek recriminations into a
woman's ear from a distance.
He approached with deliberation, reined in his horse, and lifted his hat
ceremoniously. He has an extremely shapely head, but I did not show that
the sight of it melted in the least the ice of my resolve; whereupon we
talked, not very freely at first,--men are so stiff when they consider
themselves injured. However, silence is even more embarrassing than
conversation, so at length I begin:--
_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"It is a lovely day."
_True Love_.--"Yes, but the drought is getting rather oppressive, don't
you think?"
_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"The crops certainly need rain, and the feed is
becoming scarce."
_True Love_.--"Are you a farmer's wife?"
_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"Oh no! that is a promotion to look forward to; I
am now only a Goose Girl.
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