; and though no
allusion was made to the subject, they were all thinking that she
could never return to Bullhampton again. She had been almost as much
at home with them as with her aunt at Loring; and now she must leave
the place for ever. But they said not a word; and the evening passed
by almost as had passed all other evenings. The remembrance of what
had taken place since she had been at Bullhampton made it almost
impossible to speak of her departure.

In the morning she was to be again driven to the railway-station at
Westbury. Mr. Fenwick had work in his parish which would keep him
at home, and she was to be trusted to the driving of the groom. "If
I were to be away to-morrow," he said, as he parted from her that
evening, "the churchwardens would have me up to the archdeacon, and
the archdeacon might tell the Marquis, and where should I be then?"
Of course she begged him not to give it a second thought. "Dear
Mary," he said, "I should of all things have liked to have seen the
last of you,--that you might know that I love you as well as ever."
Then she burst into tears, and kissed him, and told him that she
would always look to him as to a brother.

She called Mrs. Fenwick into her own room before she undressed.
"Janet," she said, "dearest Janet, we are not to part for ever?"

"For ever! No, certainly. Why for ever?"

"I shall never see you, unless you will come to me. Promise me that
if ever I have a house you will come to me."

"Of course you will have a house, Mary."

"And you will come and see me,--will you not? Promise that you will
come to me. I can never come back to dear, dear Bullhampton."

"No doubt we shall meet, Mary."

"And you must bring the children--my darling Flos! How else ever
shall I see her? And you must write to me, Janet."

"I will write,--as often as you do, I don't doubt."

"You must tell me how he is, Janet. You must not suppose that I do
not care for his welfare because I have not loved him. I know that my
coming here has been a curse to him. But I could not help it. Could I
have helped it, Janet?"

"Poor fellow! I wish it had not been so."

"But you do not blame me;--not much? Oh, Janet, say that you do not
condemn me."

"I can say that with most perfect truth. I do not blame you. It has
been most unfortunate; but I do not blame you. I am sure that you
have struggled to do the best that you could."

"God bless you, my dearest, dearest friend! If you could only know
how