itten a direction,--To Bullhampton and Imber; and here she turned
short off towards the parish in which she had been born. It was then
four o'clock, and when she had travelled a mile further she found
a nook under the wall of a little bridge, and there she seated
herself, and ate her dinner of bread and cheese. While she was there
a policeman on foot passed along the road. The man did not see her,
and had he seen her would have taken no more than a policeman's
ordinary notice of her; but she saw him, and in consequence did not
leave her hiding-place for hours.

About nine o'clock she crept on again, but even then her mind was not
made up. She did not even yet know where she would bestow herself for
that night. It seemed to her that there would be an inexpressible
pleasure to her, even in her misery, in walking round the precincts
of the mill, in gazing at the windows of the house, in standing on
the bridge where she had so often loitered, and in looking once more
on the scene of her childhood. But, as she thought of this, she
remembered the darkness of the stream, and the softly-gurgling but
rapid flow with which it hurried itself on beneath the black abyss of
the building. She had often shuddered as she watched it, indulging
herself in the luxury of causeless trepidation. But now, were she
there, she would surely take that plunge into the blackness, which
would bring her to the end of all her misery!

And yet, as she went on towards her old home, through the twilight,
she had no more definite idea than that of looking once more on
the place which had been cherished in her memory through all her
sufferings. As to her rest for the night she had no plan,--unless,
indeed, she might find her rest in the hidden mill-pool of that dark,
softly-gurgling stream.

On that same day, between six and seven in the evening, the miller
was told by Mr. Fenwick that his son was no longer accused of the
murder. He had not received the information in the most gracious
manner; but not the less quick was he in making it known at the mill.
"Them dunderheads over at He'tsbry has found out at last as our
Sam had now't to do with it." This he said, addressing no one in
particular, but in the hearing of his wife and Fanny Brattle. Then
there came upon him a torrent of questions and a torrent also of
tears. Mrs. Brattle and Fanny had both made up their minds that Sam
was innocent; but the mother had still feared that he would be made
to suffer