But I am sorry--_horribly_ sore and sorry! I was so delighted to come here.

I have been very little at home, and understood hardly anything about this worry--not how serious it was, nor what it meant.

Oh! I _am_ sorry--there was so much I wanted to do here--if anybody could only understand what it means to me to come to this place!" They had reached the brow of a little rising ground.

Just below them, beyond a stubble field in which there were a few bent forms of gleaners, lay the small scattered Tillage, hardly seen amid its trees, the curls of its blue smoke ascending steadily on this calm September morning against a great belt of distant beechwood which begirt the hamlet and the common along which it lay.

The stubble field was a feast of shade and tint, of apricots and golds shot with the subtlest purples and browns; the flame of the wild-cherry leaf and the deeper crimson of the haws made every hedge a wonder; the apples gleamed in the cottage garden; and a cloudless sun poured down on field and hedge, and on the half-hidden medley of tiled roofs, sharp gables, and jutting dormers which made the village.
Instinctively both stopped.