It was not true that time was effacing the memory of the great sorrow she had suffered.

It was there still, that memory, keen and sharp as ever; it would never go away again so long as she lived.

But she had been soothed by the quiet life in Billingsfield; the evidences of the past had been removed far from her, she had found in the Reverend Augustin Ambrose one of those rare and manly natures who can keep a secret for ever without ever referring to its existence even with the person who has confided it.

For a few days she had hesitated whether to ask the vicar's advice about Mr.Juxon or not.

She had thought it her duty to allow Mr.Ambrose to tell the squire whatever he thought fit of her own story.