The world was all radiant over our heads and under our feet, and we could not see even the shadow of the cloud that was coming, fast as the wheels that were rolling towards us from the distance.
"Look, Margery!" said John, "do you see a carriage on the road ?" I shaded my eyes with my hand, and I saw the carriage.
"I daresay it is the Hills'," I said, and then we walked on through the white fields and between the bare hedges till we came out upon the road which leads away across the moor between Hillsbro' Farm and Hillsbro' Hall.

There is a spot on this road which you know well, where the ground sinks into a hollow, and then rises in a steep abrupt hill, on the top of which any object suddenly appearing stands out in sharp relief against the sky, in the eyes of the traveller below.

We reached the foot of this hill, John and I; we began to ascend; I raised my eyes, and saw a figure appear on the brink of the hill, a woman's figure with draperies fluttering a little as the petticoats of the market women flutter when they tramp the road to Hillsbro'.

I raised my eyes again, and came face to face with Rachel Leonard.
She was walking quickly, pressing forward, wrapped in a fur mantle, with a Shetland snood drawn round her face.

I remember the momentary expression of that face before it changed at sight of us; the delicate brows knitted as if in pain or anxiety; the wide dark eyes intent upon the scenes opening before them; the scarlet lips parted in fatigue; the glow of exercise wandering over the cheeks.
She did not see us at first; the sun was in her eyes; but I spoke her name aloud, and held out my hand.