Look! she drops into sight; but, as if loth to leave the heavenly radiance, she balances herself and floats in the ether.

Now she falls suddenly right into her nest, hidden among the ling, unseen except by the eyes of Heaven, and the small bright insects that run hither and thither on the elastic flower-stalks.

With something like the sudden drop of the lark, the path goes down a green abrupt descent; and in a basin, surrounded by the grassy hills, there stands a dwelling, which is neither cottage nor house, but something between the two in size.

Nor yet is it a farm, though surrounded by living things.

It is, or rather it was, at the time of which I speak, the dwelling of Mrs.Browne, the widow of the late curate of Combehurst.
There she lived with her faithful old servant and her only children, a boy and girl.