There--I understand you;--good-by!" Lenny's eyes glistened as the parson shook him by the hand, and, not trusting himself to speak, he walked off sturdily.

The parson wiped his forehead, and sat himself down on the stile beside the Italian.

The view before them was lovely, and both enjoyed it (though not equally) enough to be silent for some moments.

On the other side the lane, seen between gaps in the old oaks and chestnuts that hung over the mossgrown pales of Hazeldean Park, rose gentle, verdant slopes, dotted with sheep and herds of deer.

A stately avenue stretched far away to the left, and ended at the right hand within a few yards of a ha-ha that divided the park from a level sward of tableland, gay with shrubs and flower-pots, relieved by the shade of two mighty cedars.