He cast his glance
cursorily over the fields of the Heathcotes, as they glowed under the soft
light of a setting sun; nor did his eye even refuse to wander vacantly
along the outline of that forest, which his imagination had so lately been
peopling with beings of a fierce and ruthless nature.
The hour was one when rustic economy brings the labors of the day to a
close. Among those who were more than usually active at that busy moment,
was a handmaiden of Ruth, whose clear sweet voice was heard, in one of the
inclosures, occasionally rising on the notes of a spiritual song, and as
often sinking to a nearly inaudible hum, as she extracted from a favorite
animal liberal portions of its nightly tribute to the dairy of her
mistress. To that inclosure the stranger, as it were by accident, suffered
his sauntering footsteps to stroll, seemingly as much in admiration of the
sleek herd as of any other of its comely tenants.
"From what thrush hast taken lessons, my pretty maid, that I mistook thy
notes for one of the sweetest songsters of thy woods?" he asked, trusting
his person to the support of the pen in an attitude of easy superiority.
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