Town Versus Country | Page 3

with head and apron, lying
prostrate against a gate-post, of which the wheels had fallen foul. Her
brother was fully occupied in disengaging the horses from the traces, in
reprimanding his companion for his bad driving, which he declared had
occasioned the accident, and in directing him to go for assistance to a
cottage half a mile back on the road to Wantage, whilst he himself
intimated his intention of proceeding for more help to the Farm; and the
obedient Frenchman--who, notwithstanding the derangement which his
coëffure might naturally be expected to have experienced in his tumble,
looked, Susan thought, as if his hair were put in paper every night and
pomatumed every morning, and as if his whole dapper person were
saturated with his own finest essences, a sort of travelling perfumer's
shop, a peripatetic pouncet-box--walked off in the direction indicated,
with an air of habitual submission, which showed pretty plainly that,
whether as proprietor of the unlucky britschka, or from his own force of
character, William was considered as the principal director of the

present expedition.
Having sent his comrade off, William Howe, leaving his steeds quietly
browsing by the wayside, bent his steps towards home. Susan advanced
rapidly to meet him; and in a few seconds the brother and sister were in
each other's arms; and, after most affectionate greetings, they sat down
by mutual consent upon a piece of felled timber which lay upon the
bank--the lane on one side being bounded by an old coppice--and began
to ask each other the thousand questions so interesting to the children
of one house who have been long parted.
Seldom surely has the rough and rugged bark of an unhewed elm had
the honour of supporting so perfect an exquisite. Jem Hathaway, the
exciseman, had in nothing exaggerated the magnificence of our young
Londoner. From shoes which looked as if they had come from Paris in
the ambassador's bag, to the curled head and the whiskered and
mustachio'd countenance, (for the hat which should have been the
crown of the finery was wanting--probably in consequence of the
recent overturn,) from top to toe he looked fit for a ball at Almack's, or
a fete at Bridgewater House; and, oh! how unseated to the
old-fashioned homestead at Rutherford West! His lower appointments,
hose and trousers, were of the finest woven silk; his coat was claret
colour, of the latest cut; his waistcoat--talk of the great peacock, he
would have seemed dingy and dusky beside such a splendour of
colour!--his waistcoat literally dazzled poor Susan's eyes; and his rings,
and chains, and studs, and brooches, seemed to the wondering girl
almost sufficient to stock a jeweller's shop.
In spite of all this nonsense, it was clear to her from every look and
word that she was not mistaken in believing William unchanged in
mind and disposition, and that there was a warm and a kind heart
beating under the finery. Moreover, she felt that if the unseemly
magnificence could once be thrown aside, the whiskers and mustachios
cleared away, and his fine manly person reinstated in the rustic costume
in which she had been accustomed to see him, her brother would then
appear greatly improved in face and figure, taller, more vigorous, and
with an expression of intelligence and frankness delightful to behold.

But how to get quit of the finery, and the Frenchman, and the britschka?
Or how reconcile her father to iniquities so far surpassing even the
smell of musk?
William, on his part, regarded his sister with unqualified admiration.
He had left a laughing blooming girl, he found a delicate and lovely
young woman, all the more lovely for the tears that mingled with her
smiles, true tokens of a most pure affection.
"And you really are glad to see me, Susy? And my father is well? And
here is the old place, looking just as it used to do; house, and ricks, and
barnyard, not quite in sight, but one feels that one shall see them at the
next turning--the great coppice right opposite, looking thicker and
greener than ever! how often we have gone nutting in that coppice!--the
tall holly at the gate, with the woodbine climbing up, and twisting its
sweet garlands round the very topmost spray like a coronet;--many a
time and often have I climbed the holly to twine the flaunting wreath
round your straw-bonnet, Miss Susy! And here, on the other side of the
hedge, is the very field where Hector and Harebell ran their famous
course, and gave their hare fifty turns before they killed her, without
ever letting her get out of the stubble. Those were pleasant days, Susan,
after all!"
"Happy days, dear William!"
"And we shall go nutting again, shall we not?"
"Surely, dear brother! Only"---- And
Susan suddenly