The Salamanca Corpus: Yeoman Fleetwood (1900 ... - Gredos

The Salamanca Corpus: Yeoman Fleetwood (1900)
the golden autumn fields beside hedges brilliant with amber and crimson, and flashing
in this early hour with the remains of the heavy dew, that is a forerunner of frost.
"I will think no more of her," he vowed, and marked here amid the thorny twigs, scarlet
hips, and wondered idly how those pretty hands of hers would set about
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converting the like into jam. Yonder was a crimson leaf, the very colour of the ribbon
she wore yesterday, and here was a yellow one that would match her little shoes. No, he
would think no more of her, he would certainly not return to interrupt her and force
upon her company which might be distasteful. If she condescended to become a pupil of
his aunt, she had her own reasons for it. It was not likely that he could teach her
anything worth knowing, or amuse her in any way, and for what other reason dared he
intrude upon her? So he walked on, more and more rapidly, and started every now and
then at the fancied sound of her voice, and peered through the morning mist as though
its white folds concealed her lithe young figure. He was very busy and energetic indeed
that day, so busy that he finished his round much earlier than usual, and found himself
in an extraordinary and unexpected way free to return home. He was justified in doing
so on this account, but what about the reasonings with which he had taken such pains to
convince himself of the prudence, indeed the necessity, of staying away? He stood
stock-still in the middle of the pasture where his morning circuit ended. The horses
which had been grazing there surrounded him, one or two special favourites sniffing at
him with inquiring velvet noses, evidently expecting a tit-bit or a caress. But Simon was
meditating, and did not heed.
"I must go home," he said presently with a sigh.
So home he went with long, swinging strides, and Miss Rachel herself emerged from
the kitchen as he entered the hall.
"Come in," she cried," come in, Mr. Simon, and see how hard we have worked. We
have made pounds and pounds of jam. I helped to weigh the fruit and the sugar, and
now it is boiling as hard as ever it can, and
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