"Who is Mrs. Williams?"
"Why!—she's the old woman where Mr. Rhys lives; he lives in her cottage; that's where he has his school. He has a nice little room in her cottage, and there's nobody else in the cottage but Mrs. Williams."
"Do, Julia, carry your flowers off, and do not be so hoydenish," said
Mrs. Powle.
"We have not seen Mr. Rhys here in a great while, mamma," said Eleanor.
"I wonder what has become of him."
"I'll tell you," said Julia—"he has become not well. I know Mr. Rhys is sick, because he is so pale and weak. And I know he is weak, because he cannot walk as he used to do. We used to walk all over the hills; and he says he can't go now."
"Mamma, it would be right to send down and see what is the matter with him. There must be something. It is a long time—mamma, I think it is weeks—since he was at the Lodge."
"Your father will send, I dare say," said Mrs. Powle, cutting her tissue paper.
"Mamma, did you hear," said Eleanor as Julia ran off, "that Mr. Rhys was going to leave Wiglands and bury himself in some dreadful place, somewhere?"
"I heard so."
"What place is it?"