"I think Sarah has gone to the Gardens," she said, turning round.

"You always keep reminding me of Sarah. There's nothing between us;
anything there ever was is all off long ago.... Are you going for a walk?"

She was glad of the chance to get a mouthful of fresh air, and they went
towards the hunting gate. William held it open and she passed through.

The plantations were enclosed by a wooden fence, and beyond them the bare
downs rose hill after hill. On the left the land sloped into a shallow
valley sown with various crops; and the shaws about Elliot's farm were the
last trees. Beyond the farmhouse the downs ascended higher and higher,
treeless, irreclaimable, scooped into long patriarchal solitudes, thrown
into wild crests.

There was a smell of sheep in the air, and the flock trotted past them in
good order, followed by the shepherd, a huge hat and a crook in his hand,
and two shaggy dogs at his heels. A brace of partridges rose out of the
sainfoin, and flew down the hills; and watching their curving flight
Esther and William saw the sea under the sun-setting, and the string of
coast towns.

"A lovely evening, isn't it?"

Esther acquiesced; and tempted by the warmth of the grass they sat down,
and the mystery of the twilight found way into their consciousness.

"We shan't have any rain yet awhile."