Austin could do nothing but leave a card, and hope that he might be lucky enough to meet him by accident before long.
So he turned back and made for the meadow by the river side, feeling sure that he would be safe from rabid dogs that time at any rate.

And certainly no mysterious influences intervened to prevent him sitting on the stile for a rest, and indulging in pleasant thoughts.

Then he pulled out his pocket-volume of the beloved Eclogues, and read the musical contest between Menalcas and Damaetas with great enjoyment.
Why, he wondered, were there no delightful shepherd-boys now-a-days, who spent their time in lying under trees and singing one against the other?
Lubin was much nicer than most country lads, but even Lubin was not equal to improvising songs about Phyllis, and Delia, and the Muses.

Then he looked up, and saw a stranger approaching him across the field.
He was a big, stoutish man, with a fat face, a frock-coat tightly buttoned up, a large umbrella, and a rather shabby hat of the shape called chimney-pot.

A somewhat incongruous object, amid that rural scene, and not a very prepossessing one; but apparently a gentleman, though scarcely of the stamp of St Aubyn.