Street.

She was very glad; it seemed like getting out of prison; though she was
not altogether satisfied in her mind that Mr. Richmond might be able to
make it all right with Mrs. Candy. She was obliged to risk that, for
Mr. Richmond's invitation had had the force of an injunction. So she
took the good of the moment, and turned in at the gate of the parsonage
lane with something like a feeling of exultation and triumph. The
shadow of the elms was sweet on the road; the smooth quiet of the
grounds, railed off from worldly business and care, seemed proper only
to the houses of peace which stood upon them. The old creamy-brown
church on one side; on the other the pretty new Sunday-school house; in
front, at the end of the avenue of elms, the brown door of the
parsonage. Matilda felt as if her own life had got away from out of
peaceful enclosures; and she walked up the avenue slowly; too slowly
for such a young life-traveller. She had no need to knock this time,
but just opened the door and went straight to Mr. Richmond's study.

That was peace itself. It was almost too pleasant, to Matilda's fancy.
A cool matting was on the floor; the light softened by green hanging
blinds; the soft gloom of books, as usual, all about; Mr. Richmond's
table, and work materials, and empty chair telling of his habitual
occupation; and on his table a jar of beautiful flowers, which some
parishioner's careful hand had brought for his pleasure. The room was
sweet with geranium and lily odours; and so still and pure-breathed,
that the flowers in their depth of colour and wealth of fragrance
seemed to speak through the stillness. Matilda did not ask what they
said, though maybe she heard. She came a little way into the room,
stood still and looked about her a while; and then the child flung
herself down on her knees beside a chair and burst into a passion of
weeping.

It lasted so long and was so violent that she never heard Mr. Richmond
come in. And he on his part was astonished. At the first sound of his
voice Matilda stopped crying and let him raise her from the floor; but
he did not put her into a chair. Instead of that he sat down himself
and drew her to his side. Of course he asked what the matter was. Also,
of course, Matilda could not tell him. Mr. Richmond found that out, and
then took another road to his object. He let Matilda get quite quiet;
gave her a bunch of grapes to eat, while he seemed to busy himself
among his books and pap