bringing up before his fancy the time, thirty years
ago, when he had first entered the elder Mr.
Wilkins's service as stable-lad, and pretty Molly, the
scullery-maid, was his daily delight. Pretty Molly
lay buried in Hamley churchyard, and few living,
except Dixon, could have gone straight to her
grave.

CHAPTER XI.

IN a few days Miss Monro obtained a most
satisfactory reply to her letter of inquiries as to
whether a daily governess could find employment
in East Chester. For once, the application
seemed to have come just at the right time.
The canons were most of them married men,
with young families; those at present in
residence welcomed the idea of such instruction as
Miss Monro could offer for their children, and
could almost answer for their successors in office.
This was a great step gained. Miss Monro, the
daughter of the precentor to this very cathedral,
had a secret unwillingness to being engaged as a
teacher by any wealthy tradesman there; but, to
be received into the canons' families in almost
any capacity, was like going home. Moreover,
besides the empty honour of the thing, there
were many small pieces of patronage in the gift
of the chapter—such as a small house opening
on to the Close, which had formerly belonged
to the verger, but which was now vacant, and
was offered to Miss Monro at a nominal rent.

Ellinor had once more sunk into her old
depressed passive state; Mr. Ness and Miss
Monro, modest and undecided as they both
were in general, had to fix and arrange everything
for her. Her great interest seemed to be
in the old servant Dixon, and her great
pleasure to lie in seeing him, and talking over old
times; so her two friends talked about her, little
knowing what a bitter stinging pain her
"pleasure" was. In vain Ellinor tried to plan how
they could take Dixon with them to East Chester.
If he had only been a woman it would have been
a feasible step; but they were only to keep one
servant, and Dixon, capable and versatile as he
was, would not do for that servant. All this was
what passed through Ellinor's mind: it is still a
question as to whether Dixon would have felt
his love to his native place, with all its
associations and remembrances, or his love for Ellinor,
the stronger. But he was not put to the proof;
he was only told that he must leave, and, seeing
Ellinor's extreme grief at the idea of their
separation, he set himself to comfort her by every
means in his power, reminding her, with tender
choice of words, how necessary it was that he
should remain on the spot, in Mr. Osbaldistone's
service, in order to frustrate, by any small influence
he might have, every project of alteration in
the garden that contained the dreadful secret.
He persisted in this view, though Ellinor
repeated, with pertinacious anxiety, the care
which Mr. Johnson had taken, in drawing up
the lease, to provide against any change or
alteration being made in the present disposition
of the house or grounds.

People in general were rather astonished at
the eagerness Miss Wilkins showed to sell all
the Ford Bank furniture. Even Miss Monro was
a little scandalised at this want of sentiment,
although she said nothing about it; indeed
justified the step, by telling every one how wisely Ellinor
was acting, as the large handsome tables and
chairs would be very much out of place and keeping
with the small oddly-shaped rooms of their
future home in East Chester Close. None knew
how strong was the instinct of self-preservation,
it may almost be called, which impelled Ellinor
to shake off, at any cost of present pain, the
incubus of a terrible remembrance. She wanted
to go into an unhaunted dwelling in a free
unknown country—she felt as if it was her only
chance of sanity. Sometimes she thought her
senses would not hold together till the time
when all these arrangements were ended. But
she did not speak to any one about her feelings,
poor child—to whom could she speak on the
subject but to Dixon? Nor did she define them to
herself. All she knew was, that she was as nearly
going mad as possible; and if she did she feared
that she might betray her father's guilt. All this
time she never cried, or varied from her dull
passive demeanour. And they were blessed tears of
relief that she shed when Miss Monro, herself
weeping bitterly, told her to put her head out of
the post-chaise window, for at the next turning of
the road they would catch the last glimpse of
Hamley church-spire.

Late one October evening, Ellinor had her first
sight of East Chester Close, where she was to
pass the remainder of her life. Miss Monro had
been backwards and forwards between Hamley
and East Chester more than once, while Ellinor
had remained at the parsonage; so she had not
only the pride of proprietorship in the whole of the
beautiful city, but something of the desire of hospitably
welcoming Ellinor to their joint future
home.

"Look! the fly must take us a long round,
because of our luggage; but behind these high
old walls are the canons' gardens. That
high-pitched roof, with the clumps of stone-crop on
the walls near it, is Canon Gibson's, whose four
little girls I am to teach. Hark! the great
cathedral clock. How proud I used to be of its
great boom when I was a child! I thought all
the other church clocks in the town sounded so
shrill and poor after that, which I considered
mine especially. There are rooks flying home to
the elms in the Close. I wonder if they are the
same that used to be there when I was a girl.
They say the rook is a very long-lived bird, and
I feel as if I could swear to the way they are
cawing. Ay, you may smile, Ellinor, but I
understand now those lines of Gray's you used to
say so prettily—

            I feel the gales that from ye blow,
            A momentary youth bestow,
                And breathe a second spring.

Now, dear, you must get out. This flagged