It was empty; but Lady Caroline's own maid--so I heard afterwards--sat in the rumble, and Lady Caroline's own black-eyed Neapolitan page leaped down, bearing a large letter, which I concluded was for Miss March.
I was glad that John was not at home; glad that the coach, with all its fine paraphernalia, was away, empty as it had arrived, before John came in.
He did not come till it was nearly dusk.

I was at the window, looking at my four poplar-trees, as they pointed skywards like long fingers stretching up out of the gloom, when I saw him crossing the common.

At first I was going to meet him at the gate, but on second thoughts I remained within, and only stirred up the fire, which could be seen shining ever so far.
"What a bright blaze!-- Nay, you have not waited dinner, I hope ?-- Tea--yes, that's far better; I have had such a long walk, and am so tired." The words were cheerful, so was the tone.

TOO cheerful--oh, by far! The sort of cheerfulness that strikes to a friend's heart, like the piping of soldiers as they go away back from a newly-filled grave.
"Where have you been, John ?" "All over Nunnely Hill.

I must take you there--such expansive views.
As Mrs.Tod informed me, quoting some local ballad, which she said was written by an uncle of hers: "'There you may spy Twenty-three churches with the glass and the eye.' Remarkable fact, isn't it ?" Thus he kept on talking all tea-time, incessantly, rapidly talking.