I have started to London with George Hawker, and God only knows whether you will see me again.

Try to forgive me, father, and if not, forget that you ever had a daughter who was only born to give you trouble .-- Your erring but affectionate Mary." It will be seen by the reader that this unlucky letter, written in agitation and hurry, contained no allusion whatever to marriage, but rather left one to infer that she was gone with Hawker as his mistress.
So the Vicar read it again and again, each time more mistily, till sense and feeling departed, and he lay before his hearth a hopeless paralytic.
At that moment Mary, beside George, was rolling through the fresh morning air, up the beautiful Exe valley.

Her fears were gone with daylight and sunshine, and as he put his arm about her waist, she said, "I am glad we came outside." "Are you quite happy now ?" he asked.
"Quite happy!"----.