"
"Don't talk so," said Ellinor, tenderly. "I know how sad it is, but, oh!
remember how I shall want a friend when you're gone, to advise me as you
have done to-day. You're not feeling ill, Dixon, are you?" she
continued, anxiously.
"No! I'm hearty enough, and likely for t' live. Father was eighty-one,
and mother above the seventies, when they died. It's only my heart as is
got to feel so heavy; and as for that matter, so is yours, I'll be bound.
And it's a comfort to us both if we can serve him as is dead by any care
of ours, for he were such a bright handsome lad, with such a cheery face,
as never should ha' known shame."
They rode on without much more speaking. Ellinor was silently planning
for Dixon, and he, not caring to look forward to the future, was bringing
up before his fancy the time, thirty years ago, when he had first entered
the elder Mr. Wilkins's service as stable-lad, and pretty Molly, the
scullery-maid, was his daily delight. Pretty Molly lay buried in Hamley
churchyard, and few living, except Dixon, could have gone straight to her
grave.
CHAPTER XI.
In a few days Miss Monro obtained a most satisfactory reply to her letter
of inquiries as to whether a daily governess could find employment in
East Chester. For once the application seemed to have come just at the
right time. The canons were most of them married men, with young
families; those at present in residence welcomed the idea of such
instruction as Miss Monro could offer for their children, and could
almost answer for their successors in office.
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