Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon. I am your servitor. Here would be a woman perfectly unrecognizable, strong, ruthless but just. To many in that crowded solitude it came as an extraordinary relief. The man pulled up his horse grumbling, and turned round. He can't be far off. A moment before he had been a strong man, she had been in his power, a poor helpless thing.
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