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CHAPTER XII . He had more tow on his distaffe Than Gerveis knew . — CHAUCER . The ride to Stone Court , which Fred and Rosamond took the next morning , lay through a pretty bit of midland landscape , almost all meadows and pastures , with hedgerows still allowed to grow in bushy beauty and to spread out coral fruit for the birds . Little details gave each field a particular physiognomy , dear to the eyes that have looked on them from childhood : the pool in the corner where the grasses were dank and trees leaned whisperingly ; the great oak shadowing a bare place in mid - pasture ; the high bank where the ash - trees grew ; the sudden slope of the old marl - pit making a red background for the burdock ; the huddled roofs and ricks of the homestead without a traceable way of approach ; the gray gate and fences against the depths of the bordering wood ; and the stray hovel , its old , old thatch full of mossy hills and valleys with wondrous modulations of light and shadow such as we travel far to see in later life , and see larger , but not more beautiful . These are the things that make the gamut of joy in landscape to midland - bred souls — the things they toddled among , or perhaps learned by heart standing between their father’s knees while he drove leisurely . But the road , even the byroad , was excellent ; for Lowick , as we have seen , was not a parish of muddy lanes and poor tenants ; and it was into Lowick parish that Fred and Rosamond entered after a couple of miles ’ riding . Another mile would bring them to Stone Court , and at the end of the first half , the house was already visible , looking as if it had been arrested in its growth toward a stone mansion by an unexpected budding of farm - buildings on its left flank , which had hindered it from becoming anything more than the substantial dwelling of a gentleman farmer . It was not the less agreeable an object in the distance for the cluster of pinnacled corn - ricks which balanced the fine row of walnuts on the right . Presently it was possible to discern something that might be a gig on the circular drive before the front door . “ Dear me , ” said Rosamond , “ I hope none of my uncle’s horrible relations are there . ” “ They are , though . That is Mrs . Waule’s gig — the last yellow gig left , I should think . When I see Mrs . Waule in it , I understand how yellow can have been worn for mourning . That gig seems to me more funereal than a hearse . But then Mrs . Waule always has black crape on . How does she manage it , Rosy ? Her friends can’t always be dying . ” “ I don’t know at all . And she is not in the least evangelical , ” said Rosamond , reflectively , as if that religious point of view would have fully accounted for perpetual crape . “ And , not poor , ” she added , after a moment’s pause . “ No , by George ! They are as rich as Jews , those Waules and Featherstones ; I mean , for people like them , who don’t want to spend anything . And yet they hang about my uncle like vultures , and are afraid of a farthing going away from their side of the family . But I believe he hates them all . ”
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