CHAPTER I.
THE LANE.
The rector sat on the box of his carriage, driving his horses toward his church, the grand old abbey-church of Glaston.

His wife was inside, and an old woman--he had stopped on the road to take her up--sat with her basket on the foot-board behind.

His coachman sat beside him; he never took the reins when his master was there.

Mr.Bevis drove like a gentleman, in an easy, informal, yet thoroughly business-like way.

His horses were black--large, well-bred, and well-fed, but neither young nor showy, and the harness was just the least bit shabby.