It was a lovely evening, and their course led them through many charming places.
But the dreariest waste would have been as agreeable as the richest prospect to Amabel.

She noted neither the broad meadows, yet white from the scythe, nor the cornfields waving with their deep and abundant, though yet immature crops; nor did she cast even a passing glance at any one of those green spots which every lane offers, and upon which the eye of the traveller ordinarily delights to linger.

She rode beneath a natural avenue of trees, whose branches met overhead like the arches of a cathedral, and was scarcely conscious of their pleasant shade.

She heard neither the song of the wooing thrush, nor the cry of the startled blackbird, nor the evening hymn of the soaring lark.

Alike to her was the gorse-covered common, along which they swiftly speeded, and the steep hill-side up which they more swiftly mounted.