nd if she
talked a little too much sometimes it was because she felt embarrassed;
there were times, too, when she was very silent and sad. She had been
very happy and the great catastrophe had overtaken her suddenly, leaving
her absolutely without friends. She wanted to be hidden from the world,
and by one of those strange contrasts often found in weak people she had
suddenly made a very bold resolution and had successfully carried it out.
She had come straight to a man she had never seen, but whom she knew very
well by reputation, and had told him her story and asked him to help her;
and she had not come in vain. The person who advised her to go to the
Reverend Augustin Ambrose knew that there was not a better man to whom
she could apply. She had found what she wanted, a sort of deserted
village where she would never be obliged to meet any one, since there was
absolutely no society; she had found a good man upon whom she felt she
could rely in case of further difficulty; and she had not come upon false
pretences, for she had told her whole story quite frankly. For a woman
who was naturally timid she had done a thing requiring considerable
courage, and she was astonished at her own boldness after she had done
it. But in her peaceful retreat, she reflected that she could not
possibly have left England, as many women in her position would have
done, simply because the idea of exile was intolerable to her; she
reflected also that if she had settled in any place where there was any
sort of society her story would one day have become known, and that if
she had spent years in studying her situation she could not have done
better than in going boldly to the vicar of Billingsfield and explaining
her sad position to him. She had found a haven of rest after many months
of terrible anxiety and she hoped that she might end her days in peace
and in the spot she had chosen. But she was very young--not thirty years
of age yet--and her little girl would soon grow up--and then? Evidently
her dream of peace was likely to be of limited duration; but she resigned
herself to the unpleasant possibilities of the future with a good grace,
in consideration of the advantages she enjoyed in the present.

Mrs. Ambrose was at home when Mrs. Goddard and little Eleanor came to the
vicarage. Indeed Mrs. Ambrose was rarely out in the afternoon, unless
something very unusual called her away. She received her visitor with the
stern hospitality she exercis