Their ‘walking together’ was recognised.  Martha was very angry with Jane, and predicted that the young vagabone would never be heard of more; and that the only benefit would be, that it would settle the girl’s mind, and hinder her from encouraging any more followers.  And even Mrs. Frost had her doubts.  Her prudent counsel interfered with Tom’s wish to carry out poor little Charlotte as his wife; and they had to content themselves with a betrothal until they should have ‘saved something,’ exchanging brooches, each with a memorial lock of hair.  During the remaining week, the Lady of Eschalott neither ate nor slept, and though she did her work, her tears never seemed to cease.  She defended herself by averring that Miss Ponsonby’s pillow was soaked every morning; but if Mary’s heavy eyelids corroborated her, her demeanour did not.  Mary was busy in dismantling the house and in packing up; speaking little, but always considerate and self-possessed, and resolute in avoiding all excitement of feeling.  She would not go to Ormersfield, as the Earl proposed, even for one day, and a few books connected with the happy lessons of last summer, were given into Mrs. Frost’s keeping, with the steady, calm word, ’I had better not take them.’  She made no outpouring even to that universal, loving confidante, Aunt Catharine; and the final parting did not break down her self-restraint, though, as the last bend of her head was given, the last chimney of Northwold disappeared, her sensation of heartache almost amounted to sickening.

She was going to Bryanston Square.  Her aunt had been as kind as possible, and had even offered to come to Northwold to fetch her home; but Mary had been too considerate to allow her to think of so dreadful a journey, and had in fact, been glad to be left only to her own Aunt Catharine.  The last letters which had passed between Mrs. Ponsonby and Annt Melicent had been such as two sincere Christian women could not fail to write in such circumstances as must soften down all asperities, alleviate prejudice and variance, and be a prelude to that perfect unity when all misunderstandings shall end for ever; and thus Mary had the comfort of knowing that the two whom she loved so fondly, had parted with all mutual affection and cordial honour.

She really loved the little prim stiff figure who stood on the stairs to welcome her.  The house had been her home for ten of the most home-forming years of her life, and felt familiar and kindly; it was very quiet, and it was an unspeakable comfort to be with one who talked freely of her father with blind partiality and love, and did not oppress her with implied compassion for her return to him.