The Vanishing of Tera by Fergus Hume — Read

The farmhouse of Mr. Carwell was a substantial brick building, surrounded by barns and yards, and flanked by five or six hayricks, the whole being girdled by elm-trees. Their foliage now was of a mixed yellow and red as the year drew to winter. On all sides stretched the stubble fields, tawny in hue, save those which, having already been ploughed, presented patches of dark red earth. Sleek cows wandered in some meadows, horses grazed in others, pigs and fowl shared the farmyard, rooting and scratching amid the straw, pigeons whirled aloft in the cold blue of the sky, or cooed round the eaves of the thatched stable. The homestead wore an air of comfort and peace, in keeping with the quiet religious spirit of its owner. In recognition of the plenty which filled its walls, Carwell had written over the door the Hebrew word, "Bethdagon," which signifies the "House of corn."

In this Goshen Rachel ruled supreme. Her mother had passed away these many years, and she held the keys of the household. Demure, in a grey gown and close cap, lightfooted and ever watchful, she moved like a Puritan fairy in the home. The girl was a born housekeeper, and in her little kingdom affairs were conducted with a wonderful and rare combination of economy and cheerfulness. Carwell knew that some day she would marry -- at present circumstances pointed to Herbert Mayne -- and he often wondered how he would be able to manage without his clever, bright-eyed Rachel. Her departure would be a loss not easy to replace. Household blessings like this maiden do not grow on every bush.