The congregation was extremely small and quite a rustic one with the exception of a large muster of servants from the house, some of whom were already in their seats, while others were yet dropping in. There were some stately footmen, and there was a perfect picture of an old coachman, who looked as if he were the official representative of all the pomps and vanities that had ever been put into his coach. There was a very pretty show of young women, and above them, the handsome old face and fine responsible portly figure of the housekeeper towered pre-eminent. The pretty girl of whom Mr. Boythorn had told us was close by her. She was so very pretty that I might have known her by her beauty even if I had not seen how blushingly conscious she was of the eyes of the young fisherman, whom I discovered not far off. One face, and not an agreeable one, though it was handsome, seemed maliciously watchful of this pretty girl, and indeed of every one and everything there. It was a Frenchwoman's.
As the bell was yet ringing and the great people were not yet come, I had leisure to glance over the church, which smelt as earthy as a grave, and to think what a shady, ancient, solemn little church it was. The windows, heavily shaded by trees, admitted a subdued light that made the faces around me pale, and darkened the old brasses in the pavement and the time and damp-worn monuments, and rendered the sunshine in the little porch, where a monotonous ringer was working at the bell, inestimably bright. But a stir in that direction, a gathering of reverential awe in the rustic faces, and a blandly ferocious assumption on the part of Mr. Boythorn of being resolutely unconscious of somebody's existence forewarned me that the great people were come and that the service was going to begin.

The congregation was extremely small and quite rustic, apart from a large muster of servants from the house. There were some stately footmen, and a perfect picture of an old coachman. There was a very pretty show of young women, and above them, the handsome old face and fine portly figure of the housekeeper towered pre-eminent. The pretty girl of whom Mr. Boythorn had told us was close by her, blushingly conscious of the eyes of the young fisherman, whom I discovered not far off. One handsome face, though not an agreeable one, seemed maliciously watchful of this pretty girl, and indeed of everyone there. It was a Frenchwoman's.
As the bell was still ringing, I had leisure to glance over the church, and to think what an ancient, solemn little church it was. The windows, heavily shaded by trees, admitted a subdued light that darkened the old monuments around me, and made the sunshine in the little porch seem very bright. A stir in that direction, and the reverential awe in the rustic faces, warned me that the great people were arriving and that the service was going to begin.
