existence of John Short, so that
she began to long for a sight of him, without exactly knowing why.

Gradually, too, as she and her little girl passed many peaceful days in
the quiet cottage, the sad woman's face grew less sorrowful. She spoke of
herself more cheerfully and dwelt less upon the subject of her grief. She
had at first been so miserable that she could hardly talk at all without
referring to her unhappy situation though, after her first interview with
Mrs. Ambrose, no one had ever heard her mention any details connected
with her trouble. But now she never approached the subject at all. Her
face lost none of its pathetic beauty, it is true, but it seemed to
express sorrow past rather than present. Meanwhile little Nellie grew
daily more lovely, and absorbed more and more of her mother's attention.

CHAPTER IV.

Events of such stirring interest as the establishment of Mrs. Goddard in
Billingsfield rarely come alone; for it seems to be in the nature of
great changes to bring other changes with them, even when there is no
apparent connection whatever between them. It took nearly two years for
Billingsfield to recover from its astonishment at Mrs. Goddard's arrival,
and before the excitement had completely worn off the village was again
taken off its feet by unexpected news of stupendous import, even as of
old Pompeii was overthrown by a second earthquake before it had wholly
recovered from the devastation caused by the first. The shock was indeed
a severe one. The Juxon estate was reported to be out of Chancery, and a
new squire was coming to take up his residence at the Hall.

It is not known exactly how the thing first became known, but there was
soon no doubt whatever that it was true. Thomas Reid, the sexton, who
remembered that the old squire died forty years ago come Michaelmas, and
had been buried in a "wonderful heavy" coffin, Thomas Reid the stern
censor of the vicar's sermons, a melancholic and sober man, so far lost
his head over the news as to ask Mr. Ambrose's leave to ring the bells,
Mr. Abraham Boosey having promised beer for the ringers. Even to the
vicar's enlightened mind it seemed fitting that there should be some
festivity over so great an event and the bells were accordingly rung
during one whole afternoon. Thomas Reid's ringers never got beyond the
first "bob" of a peal, for with the exception of the sexton himself and
old William Speller the wheelwright, who pulled the treble bel