her knees, with her face buried in the bedclothes. She didn't care to
talk about him even to me, and I had hard work to persuade her to eat or
drink enough to keep life in her at this time. When the days were fine, I
used to try and get her to walk out a little, for she looked as white as
a ghost for want of air; and after a good deal of persuasion, she did go
out sometimes of an afternoon, but she wouldn't ask any one to walk with
her, though there were plenty she might have asked--the young ladies from
the Rectory and others. She preferred being alone, she told me, and I was
glad that she should get the air and the change anyhow. She brightened a
little after this, but very little. It was all of a sudden one day that
she told me she was going away. I wanted to go with her, but she said
that couldn't be. I asked her where she was going, and she told me, after
hesitating a little, that she was going to friends in London. I knew she
had been very fond of two young ladies that she went to school with at
Lidford, whose father lived in London; and I thought it was to their
house she was going. I asked her if it was, and she said yes. She made
arrangements with the landlord about selling the furniture. He is an
auctioneer himself, and there was no difficulty about that. The money was
to be sent to her at a post-office in London. I wondered at that, but she
said it was better so. She paid every sixpence that was owing, and gave
me a handsome present over and above my wages; though I didn't want to
take anything from her, poor dear young lady, knowing that there was very
little left after the Captain's death, except the furniture, which wasn't
likely to bring much. And so she went away about two days after she first
mentioned that she was going to leave Lidford. It was all very sudden,
and I don't think she bade good-bye to any one in the place. She seemed
quite broken down with grief in those two last days. I shall never forget
her poor pale face when she got into the fly."

"How did she go? From the station here?"