It was yet quite bare; the snow had melted away, and it had a look as desolate as her own heart.

She stood a few minutes speechless by its side; but the painfully tight clasp in which she held Charlotte's hand expressed better than any words could have done the tension of feeling, the passion of emotion, which dominated her.

And Charlotte felt that silence was her mother's safety.

If she spoke, she would weep, perhaps break down completely, and be unable to reach the shelter of the rectory.
The rector was walking about his study.

He saw the two female forms passing through the misty graveyard, and up to his own front door; but that they were Mrs.Sandal and Charlotte Sandal, was a supposition beyond the range of his life's probabilities.