the peaceful years spent there were stronger than the
remembrance of the weeks of sorrow and care; and, while Ellinor's
marriage had seemed a probable event, she had made many a little plan of
returning to her native place, and obtaining what daily teaching she
could there meet with, and the friends to whom she was now writing had
promised her their aid. She thought that as Ellinor had to leave Ford
Bank, a home at a distance might be more agreeable to her, and she went
on to plan that they should live together, if possible, on her earnings,
and the small income that would be Ellinor's. Miss Monro loved her pupil
so dearly, that, if her own pleasure only were to be consulted, this
projected life would be more agreeable to her than if Mr. Wilkins's
legacy had set her in independence, with Ellinor away from her, married,
and with interests in which her former governess had but little part.

As soon as Mr. Ness had left her, Ellinor rang the bell, and startled the
servant who answered it by her sudden sharp desire to have the horses at
the door as soon as possible, and to tell Dixon to be ready to go out
with her.

She felt that she must speak to him, and in her nervous state she wanted
to be out on the free broad common, where no one could notice or remark
their talk. It was long since she had ridden, and much wonder was
excited by the sudden movement in kitchen and stable-yard. But Dixon
went gravely about his work of preparation, saying nothing.

They rode pretty hard till they reached Monk's Heath, six or seven miles
away from Hamley. Ellinor had previously determined that here she would
talk over the plan Mr. Ness had proposed to her with Dixon, and he seemed
to understand her without any words passing between them. When she
reined in he rode up to her, and met the gaze of her sad eyes with
sympathetic, wistful silence.

"Dixon," said she, "they say I must leave Ford Bank."

"I was afeared on it, from all I've heerd say i' the town since the
master's death."

"Then you've heard--then you know--that papa has left hardly any money--my
poor dear Dixon, you won't have your legacy, and I never thought of that
before!"

"Never heed, never heed," said he, eagerly; "I couldn't have touched it
if it had been there, for the taking it would ha' seemed too like--"
Blood-money, he was going to say, but he stopped in time. She guessed
the meaning, though not the word he would have used.

"No, not that," said she; "h