. In a moment such a great
event had happened, one utterly unconceived of, and unprepared for. Half
an hour previous, the unhappy mother had dreaded the breaking away from
her old life, and had declined to discuss with Charlotte any plan
tending to such a consummation. Then, suddenly, she had taken a step
more decided and unusual than had ever entered Charlotte's mind.

The footpath through the park was very wet and muddy. Every branch
dropped water. They were a little frightened at what they were doing,
and their hearts were troubled by many complex emotions. But fortunately
the walk was a short one, and the shortest way to the rectory lay
directly through the churchyard. Without a word Mrs. Sandal took it; and
without a word she turned aside at a certain point, and through the
long, rank, withered grasses walked straight to the squire's grave. It
was yet quite bare; the snow had melted away, and it had a look as
desolate as her own heart. She stood a few minutes speechless by its
side; but the painfully tight clasp in which she held Charlotte's hand
expressed better than any words could have done the tension of feeling,
the passion of emotion, which dominated her. And Charlotte felt that
silence was her mother's safety. If she spoke, she would weep, perhaps
break down completely, and be unable to reach the shelter of the
rectory.

The rector was walking about his study. He saw the two female forms
passing through the misty graveyard, and up to his own front door; but
that they were Mrs. Sandal and Charlotte Sandal, was a supposition
beyond the range of his life's probabilities. So, when they entered his
room, he was for the moment astounded; but how much more so, when
Charlotte, seeing her mother unable to frame a word, said, "We have come
to you for shelter and protection!"

Then Mrs. Sandal began to sob hysterically; and the rector called his
housekeeper, and the best rooms were quickly opened and warmed, and the
sorrowful, weary lady lay down to rest in their comfort and seclusion.
Charlotte did not find their friend as unprepared for the event as she
supposed likely. Private matters sift through the public mind in a way
beyond all explanation, and "There had been a general impression," he
said, "that the late squire's widow was very ill done to by the new
squire."

Charlotte did not spare the new squire. All his petty ways of annoying
her mother and herself and Stephen; all his small economies about their
fir