I expected Miss Matty to jump at this invitation; but, no! Miss
Pole and I had the greatest difficulty in persuading her to go.
She thought it was improper; and was even half annoyed when we
utterly ignored the idea of any impropriety in her going with two
other ladies to see her old lover. Then came a more serious
difficulty. She did not think Deborah would have liked her to go.
This took us half a day's good hard talking to get over; but, at
the first sentence of relenting, I seized the opportunity, and
wrote and despatched an acceptance in her name--fixing day and
hour, that all might be decided and done with.

The next morning she asked me if I would go down to the shop with
her; and there, after much hesitation, we chose out three caps to
be sent home and tried on, that the most becoming might be selected
to take with us on Thursday.

She was in a state of silent agitation all the way to Woodley. She
had evidently never been there before; and, although she little
dreamt I knew anything of her early story, I could perceive she was
in a tremor at the thought of seeing the place which might have
been her home, and round which it is probable that many of her
innocent girlish imaginations had clustered. It was a long drive
there, through paved jolting lanes. Miss Matilda sat bolt upright,
and looked wistfully out of the windows as we drew near the end of
our journey. The aspect of the country was quiet and pastoral.
Woodley stood among fields; and there was an old-fashioned garden
where roses and currant-bushes touched each other, and where the
feathery asparagus formed a pretty background to the pinks and
gilly-flowers; there was no drive up to the door. We got out at a
little gate, and walked up a straight box-edged path.