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From the contented expression upon her pale, refined countenance, it was plain that happiness, to a great extent, had been restored to her. When he had gone to Woodnewton it was to fetch her back to Glencardine. He had asked for an explanation, it was true; but when she had refused one he had not pressed it. That he was puzzled, sorely puzzled, was apparent.
"Women's outdoor clothing never suffers by a wetting. We'll get Mrs. Wyatt to dry them, and then I'll get home again to my aunt in Woodnewton. Do you know the place?" "I fancy I passed through it this morning. One of those long, lean villages, with a church at the end." "That's it the dullest little place in all England, I believe." He was struck by her charm of manner.
So entirely engrossed was she by her own despair that she had not noticed the figure of a man who, catching sight of her at the end of Woodnewton village, had held back until she had gone a considerable distance, and had then sauntered leisurely in the direction she had taken. The man kept her in view, but did not approach her.
Young Murie had, of course, heard from his mother the story told by Lady Heyburn concerning the offence of her stepdaughter. But he would not believe a single word against her. They had been strolling slowly, and she had been speaking expressing her heartfelt thanks for his action in taking her from that life of awful monotony at Woodnewton.
But her father shook her hand roughly from his shoulder, saying, "I have already told you my decision, which is irrevocable. To-morrow you shall leave Glencardine and go to your aunt Emily at Woodnewton. You won't have much opportunity for mischief in that dull little Northampton village.
A tiny inn, called the "White Lion," stood before him, therefore he entered, and calling for some ale, commenced to chat with the old lady who kept the place. After the usual conventionalities about the weather, he said, "I suppose you don't have very many strangers in Woodnewton, eh?" "Not many, sir," was her reply. "We see a few people from Oundle and Northampton in the summer holiday folk.
"I require no compliments from you." "Lady Heyburn has expressed a wish to see you," he said. "She is still in San Remo, and asked me to invite you to go down there for a few weeks. Your aunt has written her, I think, complaining that you are not very comfortable at Woodnewton." "I have not complained. Why should Aunt Emily complain of me?
Like many other Northamptonshire villages, it consisted of one long street of cottages, many of them with dormer windows peeping from beneath the brown thatch, the better houses of stone, with old mullioned windows, but all of them more or less in stages of decay. With the depreciation in agriculture, Woodnewton, once quite a prosperous little place, was now terribly shabby and depressing.
The whole country-side was wondering why such a pretty young lady had gone to live in the deadly dullness of Woodnewton, and what was the cause of that great sorrow written upon her countenance. Her daily burden of bitter reflection was, indeed, hard to bear.
Midway between historic Fotheringhay and ancient Apethorpe, the ancestral seat of the Earls of Westmorland, lay the long, straggling, and rather poverty-stricken village of Woodnewton.
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