What was it ?--something about "a pleasant hermitage." That was just what this was: a pleasant hermitage.
But presently, as she lay comforting herself, and the morning wore on, she became increasingly conscious of an indefinable uncomfortable sensation.

And presently the sensation became more definite; became localized; and she was aware that she was growing hungry.

And in the same moment came the dismaying realization that, in their haste of the night before, she had not thought to plan with Matilda for the somewhat essential item of food! She sat up.

What was she ever to do?
Three months of solitary confinement, with no arrangements for food! Would Matilda have the sense to think of this, and if so would she have the adroitness to smuggle edibles in to her unnoticed?
Or was she to be starved out?
The revised plan had lost its first rose-tint.
She got up, and noiselessly foraged throughout her quarters.

The total of her gleaning was a box of forgotten chocolate bon-bons and a box of half-length tallow candles.