Cripps, the Carrier: A Woodland Tale. Blackmore Richard Doddridge

of youth, but ripe for blush or dreaminess, she felt the power of early spring, and the budding hope around her.

      "Am I to be a prisoner always, ever more a prisoner?" she said, as she touched a willow catkin, the earliest of all, the silver one. She stroked the delicate silken tassel, doubtful of its prudence yet; and she looked for leaves, but none there were, and nothing to hold commune.

      The feeble sun seemed well content to have a mere glimpse of the earth again, and spread his glances diffidently, as if he expected shadow. Nevertheless, there he was at last; and the world received him tenderly.

      "It has been such a long, long time. It seems to grow longer, as the days draw out, and nobody comes to talk to me. My place it is to obey, of course – but still, but still – there he is again!"

      The girl drew back; for a fine young man, in a grand new velvet shooting-coat, wearing also a long shawl waistcoat and good buck-skin breeches, which (combined with calf-skin gaiters) set off his legs to the uttermost, – in all this picturesque apparel, and swinging a gun right gallantly, there he was, and no mistake! He was quietly trying through the covert, without any beaters, but with a brace of clever spaniels, for woodcock, snipe, or rabbit perhaps; the season for game being over. A tall, well-made, and rather nice young man (so far as a bashful girl might guess) he seemed at this third view of him; and of course it would be an exceedingly rude and pointed thing to run away. Needless, also, and indeed absurd; because she was sure that when last they met, he was frightened much more than she was. It was nothing less than a duty now, to find out whether he had recovered himself. If he had done so, it would be as well to frighten him even more this time. And if he had not, it would only be fair to see what could be done for him.

      One of his dogs – a "cocking spannel," as the great Mr. Looker warranted – a good young bitch, with liver-coloured spots, and drop ears torn by brambles, and eyes full of brownish yellow light, ran up to the girl confidentially, and wagged a brief tail, and sniffed a little, and with sound discretion gazed. Each black nostril was like a mark of panting interrogation, and one ear was tucked up like a small tunnel, and the eye that belonged to it blinked with acumen.

      "You pretty dear, come and let me pat you," the young lady cried, looking down at the dog, as if there were nobody else in the world. "Oh, I am so fond of dogs – what is your name? Come and tell me, darling."

      "Her name is 'Grace,'" said the master, advancing in a bashful but not clumsy way. "The most beautiful name in the world, I think."

      "Oh, do you think so, Mr. – but I beg your pardon, you have not told me what your own name is, I think."

      "I hope you are quite well," he answered, turning his gun away carefully; "quite well this fine afternoon. How beautiful it is to see the sun, and all the things coming back again so!"

      "Oh yes! and the lovely willow-trees! I never noticed them so before. I had no idea that they did all this." She was stroking the flossiness as she spoke.

      "Neither had I," said the young man, trying to be most agreeable, and glancing shyly at the haze of silver in lily fingers glistening; "but do not you think that they do it because – because they can scarcely help themselves?"

      "No! how can you be so stupid? Excuse me – I did not mean that, I am sure. But they do it because it is their nature; and they like to do it."

      "You know them, no doubt; and you understand them, because you are like them."

      He was frightened as soon as he had said this; which he thought (while he uttered it) rather good.

      "I am really astonished," the fair maid said, with the gleam of a smile in her lively eyes, but her bright lips very steadfast, "to be compared to a willow-tree. I thought that a willow meant – but never mind, I am glad to be like a willow."

      "Oh no! oh no! You are not one bit – I am sure you will never be like a willow. What could I have been thinking of?"

      "No harm whatever, I am sure of that," she answered, with so sweet a look, that he stopped from scraping the toe of his boot on a clump of moss; and in his heart was wholly taken up with her – "I am sure that you meant to be very polite."

      "More than that – a great deal more than that – oh, ever so much more than that!"

      She let him look at her for a moment, because he had something that he wanted to express. And she, from pure natural curiosity, would have been glad to know what it was. And so their eyes dwelt upon one another just long enough for each to be almost ashamed of leaving off; and in that short time they seemed to be pleased with one another's nature. The youth was the first to look away; because he feared that he might be rude; whereas a maiden cannot be rude. With the speed of a glance she knew all that, and she blushed at the colour these things were taking. "I am sure that I ought to go," she said.

      "And so ought I, long and long ago. I am sure I cannot tell why I stop. If you were to get into any trouble – "

      "You are very kind. You need not be anxious. If you do not know why you stop – the sooner you run away at full speed the better."

      "Oh, I hope you won't say that," he replied, being gifted by nature with powers of courting, which only wanted practice. "I really think that you scarcely ought to say so unkind a thing as that."

      "Very well, then. May I say this, that you have important things to attend to, and that it looks – indeed it does – as if it was coming on to rain?"

      "I assure you there is no fear of that – although, if it did, there is plenty of shelter. But look at the sun – how it shines in your hair! Oh, why do you keep your hair so short? It looks as if it ought to be ten feet long."

      "Well, suppose that it was – not quite ten feet, for that would be rather hard to manage – but say only half that length, and then for a very good reason was all cut off – but that is altogether another thing, and in no way can concern you. I give you a very good day, sir."

      "No, no! you will give me a very bad day, if you hurry away so suddenly. I am anxious to know a great deal more about you. Why do you live in this lonely place, quite as if you were imprisoned here? And what makes you look so unhappy sometimes, although your nature is so bright? There! what a brute I am! I have made you cry. I ought to shoot myself."

      "You must not talk of such wicked things. I am not crying; I am very happy – at least, I mean quite happy enough. Good-bye! or I never shall bear you again."

      As she turned away, without looking at him, he saw that her pure young breast was filled with a grief he must not intrude upon. And at the same moment he caught a glimpse through the trees of some one coming. So he lifted his smart Glengarry cap, and in sad perplexity strode away. But over his shoulder he softly said – "I shall come again – you must let me do that – I am sure that I can help you."

      The young lady made no answer; but turned as soon as she thought he was out of sight, and wistfully looked after him.

      "Here comes that Miss Patch, of course," she said. "I wonder whether she has spied him out. Her eyes are always everywhere."

      "Oh, my darling child," cried Miss Patch, an elderly lady of great dignity; "I had no idea you were gone so far. Come in, I beg of you, come this moment; what has excited you like this?"

      "Nothing at all. At least, I mean, I am not in the least excited. Oh! look at the beautiful sunset!"

      Miss Patch, with deep gravity, took out her spectacles, placed them on her fine Roman nose, and gazed eastward to watch the sunset.

      "Oh dear no! not there," cried her charge in a hurry; "here, it is all in this direction."

      "I thought that I saw a spotted dog," the lady answered, still gazing steadily down the side of the forest by which the youth had made his exit; "a spotted dog, Grace, I am almost sure."

      "Yes, I dare say. I believe that there is a dog with some spots in the neighbourhood."

      CHAPTER XVI.

      A GRAND SMOCK-FROCK

      Upon the Saturday after this, being market-day at Oxford, Zacchary Cripps was in and out with the places and the people, as busy as the best of them. The number of things that he had