of the poor, and especially of the English poor. Yet, Christian, the
impatient, the ardent, stood and listened with respectful and absorbed
interest. Cottingham might be elderly, egotistic, long-winded, but at
this period of her career, Christian's hot heart beat throb for throb
with his, and the thought, as he said, of "that pore little bitch
stoppin' out, and maybe spoilt, so that there'd be nothin' for us but
to shoot her, through learnin' to run sheep," had precisely the same
horror for her as for him.

"I couldn't, so to speak, lay me 'and on 'er now; her wouldn't let me
go anear 'er, nor she wouldn't let Jimmy neither, but she ain't far
away, and she'd 'ave what I might call cawnfidence in you, Missie--"
Cottingham had at length concluded: "Her's that sly we mightn't never
see 'er again! But you take and go up that 'ill, Missie, that's where
I seen 'er last, I'll lay you get 'er if anyone can!"

Christian, "still," as Rossetti says, "with the whole of pleasure,"
received these instructions reverently, and with the pockets of the
kennel-coat further loaded with broken biscuit, "took and went"
according to instructions. She climbed the fence behind the kennels,
and addressed herself lightly to the ascent of the hill. It was a long
hill, that began with pasture fields, that were merged imperceptibly
into moorland, heather and furze. There were sheep, and donkeys and
goats on it, and a melancholy old kennel-horse or two, all feeding
peacefully. Amazon could not be accused in connection with them, so
Christian reflected, and prepared herself to rebut any such slander.
The rain was lighter, and the soaking mist that had all day filled the
valley, was slowly thinning, and revealing the mighty scroll of silver
that was the river, while the woods and hillsides came and went,
illusive as the grey hints of landscape in a Japanese water-colour.