ing some anxiety as to how William Dean would meet her. As her arrival was not expected, and as the coach did not stop in the village, few people recognized her; but she fancied that in the demeanour of those few she could already perceive a difference. They looked at her, she thought, with more curiosity than kindness; and there was something in the cool nod of the head, and the nudging the elbow of the next bystander, that made poor Susan's cheek burn; and inspired an earnest wish that there were some spot in the world where, unknowing and unknown, she might earn her subsistence, however hardly, and hide her drooping head, till death relieved her from her sorrows, or justification from her shame.
When the coach reached the stile that led across the fields to Oakfield, Susan got down, and with her bundle in her hand, trudged onwards towards the park gates. No one could be on better terms with her fellow-servants than she was, and yet now she dreaded to meet them; and as she drew near the house she slackened her pace, and the big drops chased each other down her cheeks at the thought of her altered fortunes.
"Susan!" cried a well-known voice, "and she
