It was the same as it was wont to be in old times, yet different too, and wore another air.

The change was in herself, not it; but she never thought of that, and wondered at its alteration, and where it lay, and what it was.
The people all knew Barnaby, and the children of the place came flocking round him--as she remembered to have done with their fathers and mothers round some silly beggarman, when a child herself.

None of them knew her; they passed each well-remembered house, and yard, and homestead; and striking into the fields, were soon alone again.
The Warren was the end of their journey.

Mr Haredale was walking in the garden, and seeing them as they passed the iron gate, unlocked it, and bade them enter that way.
'At length you have mustered heart to visit the old place,' he said to the widow.

'I am glad you have.' 'For the first time, and the last, sir,' she replied.
'The first for many years, but not the last ?' 'The very last.' 'You mean,' said Mr Haredale, regarding her with some surprise, 'that having made this effort, you are resolved not to persevere and are determined to relapse?
This is unworthy of you.