of the new morning air, the panes being now wet with trembling tears left by the night rain, each one rounded with a pale lustre caught from primrose-hued slashes through a cloud low down in the awakening sky. From the trees came the sound of steady dripping upon the drifted leaves under them, and from the direction of the church she could hear another noise—peculiar, and not intermittent like the rest, the purl of water falling into a pool.
Liddy knocked at eight o'clock, and Bathsheba unlocked the door.
"What a heavy rain we've had in the night, ma'am!" said Liddy, when her inquiries about breakfast had been made.
"Yes; very heavy."
"Did you hear the strange noise from the churchyard?"
"I heard one strange noise. I've been thinking it must have been the water from the tower spouts."
"Well, that's what the shepherd was saying, ma'am. He's now gone on to see."
"Oh! Gabriel has been here this morning?
"Only just looked in in passing—quite in his old way, which I thought he had left off lately. But the tower spouts used to spatter on the stones, and we are puzzled, for this was like the boiling of a pot."
