One of the lords looked round the church and the congregation, scrutinising their faces.

– Who is that grey-haired old man with the stick? – he whispered to one of the young men standing nearby.

– That's Clif, our watchman," the young man replied cautiously, pleased and honoured to be spoken to by such a noble man.

– Watchman? And what does he guard? – The lord asked with a chuckle.

– The old mill," replied the lad.

– And who is that lady surrounded by children?

– That's our laundress Lilith.

– All those children are hers?

– Yes, she has eight children.

Of course, the country lad had no idea that a polite and respectful "sir" was required.

The gentleman smiled and continued looking at the villagers.

– How many children are there in the village? – He asked again.

– God knows. A lot! – The boy replied, shrugging his shoulders. – Ask the pastor, he's an educated man, not like us.

The curious gentleman's companion grinned: it seemed to him that he was in the Middle Ages, for the peasants were so horribly dressed, and the dilapidated church so poor.

– It seems to me, my friend, that with the manor you have become a great burden," he whispered to his noble friend.

– Yes, that's true," he said with a mocking smile.

– But you can change all that. These people seem to be no different from medieval manners.

– That's likely. If not manners, then religion.

Suddenly the first gentleman saw Catherine and Christine Glowfords: they stood almost at the altar, occupying the first pew. Christine's beauty immediately caught the lord's eye, and he turned again to his local informant.

– Who are those girls? – The lord asked quietly, nodding in the direction of the unfamiliar beauties.

– Which ones? – The lad didn't understand. – We have a lot of them in our village.

– The ones standing next to the grey-haired old woman whose head is shaking.

– The ones? They're the Glowfords, our parson's daughters. He's such a good man, our pastor!

– What are these girls' names?

– 'Kate and Chris,' replied the lad, in a rustic manner.

– The one in the white bonnet with the lace, who is she?

– Chris. Pretty, I tell you, but she's got a nose for everyone.

The lord scrutinised the figure of the girl who interested him and the soft, surprisingly beautiful profile of her face. Christine noticed someone's gaze on her and turned to look at the lord, frowning her lovely dark eyebrows at him. Her brown eyes, framed by long lashes, looked straight into the eyes of the noble gentleman, but when she saw that he was looking at her intently, the girl blushed slightly, became embarrassed, turned away hastily, and ducked her gaze into the open book she held in her hands.

"What a beautiful girl. It is amazing that in this wilderness you can find a treasure in the form of such a fresh rose" – thought the lord, still not taking his eyes off the beautiful girl: even in her old, rough dress, Christine was very beautiful. Kate, too, seemed pretty to the lord, but her beauty was pale and commonplace against Christine's.

When the congregation had finished singing the hymn, Pastor Glowford invited the new landlord down the aisle so that his subjects could see him.

The new landlord didn't make the pastor ask twice – it turned out to be a gentleman who had been gathering information about the peasants. Someone who liked Christine. He glimpsed the girl's face once more, but this time she didn't take her beautiful eyes off him.

Like all the girls in the church, Christine thought that the new landlord was very good-looking: tall, stately, well-built, clean-shaven, handsome, young, well-groomed, and his hair was thick, dark and beautifully styled. To the poor village girls, who had never seen such smart, well-groomed men before, he seemed to be a real beauty, a creature from another world beyond their reach, and an ambitious dream slipped into their hearts. All of them except Catherine and Cassie: Kate was too religious to think of such a thing, and Cassie did not understand the meaning of beauty, and besides, she was sleeping sweetly, nestled comfortably on a bench. But while in the hearts of other girls this vicious dream slipped and disappeared, in Christine's heart it took root and grew a flower of ambition: Christine saw that the lord was interested in her, but she feared that others would notice his interest in her and judge her, so she pretended not to notice his admiring gaze on her face.