But in spite of all such advantages and due acknowledgment of their value, it is refreshing to turn to quiet and peaceful habitations like Fair Acres, and live again a quieter and less complex life than that which we have grown to believe is necessary in these later times.
As the sun threw its level beams from the east across the lawn, thousands of diamond drops sparkled and shimmered in the light, and it touched with radiance the figure of a young girl who was standing by a white gate which led into a copse sloping upward to the crest of a hill, behind the old manor, and crowned by a belt of fir-trees.
Joyce had her hand on the latch of the gate, but paused for a moment to look back on the landscape which lay stretched out before her.
A peaceful valley was below, where the tower of Fair Acres church rose against a background of trees, now in their first fresh beauty. A few cottages with red roofs clustered round the church, and two or three farms were sprinkled at a farther distance. A rugged outline of hills at a higher level, showed where the Ebbor rocks open out a miniature Cheddar, and on the other side of that little gorge lay the open country, where the city of the deep springs lies, with its noble cathedral, and quaint Close, and stately baronial Palace--the beautiful cathedral village of Wells.
Joyce Falconer was looking forth upon life as upon this goodly landscape. She was in the fresh spring-time of seventeen summers. Her father called her Sunshine, and her brothers Birdie; while her mother, who was a plain, practical person, and who indulged in no flights of fancy, would say, "Joyce is the child's name; and what can suit her better? I don't like nick-names."
Nevertheless the nick-names held their own, and as Joyce stood by the white gate, a voice was heard resounding from the lawn below:
"Father, come up the hill. It is so lovely this morning."
The squire advanced with steady, even footsteps. He was a fine, stalwart man, dressed in a stout suit of corduroy, and with leggings buttoned up to his knees. He carried a gun under his arm--more from habit than from any idea of using it just then--and close at his heels walked, with sedate and leisurely bearing, his chief friend and companion, a large retriever, Duke; while two little terriers, Nip and Pip, bustled about in every direction, scenting with their sharp noses, and occasionally turning upon each other to have a playful passage of arms which, though accompanied by ominous growls, meant nothing but fun.