ck Abbey, which was Windebank's Wiltshire home. It required
something of an effort to enable her to retrace her steps. She reached
and crossed the churchyard, where long forgotten memories crowded upon
her; it was with heavy heart that she struck across the meadows.

When she reached the Avon, she found the river to be swollen with the
winter's rain. The water, seamed with dark streaks, flowed turbulently,
menacingly, past her feet. She walked along the river's deserted bank
to the place that she had learned to look upon as her own. Its
discovery gave her much of a shock. She had always pictured it in her
mind as when she had last seen it. Then, it had been in early July. The
river had lazily flowed past banks gaily decorated with timid
forget-me-nots and purple veitch; the ragged robin had looked roguishly
from the hedge. Such was the heat, that the trees of her nook had
looked longingly towards the cool of the water, while the scent of
lately mown hay seemed to pervade the world. That was then.

Now, a desolation had invaded the spot. In place of summer gaiety there
was only dreariness. The flowers had gone; a raw wind soughed along the
river's banks; instead of the scent of the hay there was only the smell
of damp earth, as if to proclaim to the girl that such desolation was
the certain heritage of all living things.

Mavis could not get rid of the impression that the contrast between the
place as she remembered it and as it was now resembled her own life.
She made her way, with all dispatch, to the station. Here she learned
that Mrs Farthing could not take her in until the following day, as her
present "visitors" were not leaving till then. Mavis pricked up her
ears at the mention of visitors; she did not think such polite
euphemisms had penetrated so far afield.

She had little thought to give the matter, as she was concerned to know
where she was going to spend the night. Mr Medlicott solved her
perplexity; he insisted upon Mavis seeing Mrs Medlicott, who proved to
be a simple, kindly countrywoman, who dropped an old-fashioned curtsey
directly she set eyes on the girl. The station-master's wife showed
Mavis a little room and told her that she was welcome to the use of it
for the night, if she were not afraid of being kept awake by the
passing and shunting of trains. Mavis jumped at the offer, whereat Mrs
Medlicott insisted on her sitting down to a solid, homely tea, a meal
which was often interrupted by Mr Medl