When Miss Monro returned to the bedroom, Ellinor was in a heavy feverish slumber; so feverish and so uneasy did she appear, that, after the hesitation of a moment or two, Miss Monro had no scruple in wakening her. But she did not appear to understand the answer to her request; she did not seem even to remember that she had made any request. The journey to England, the misery, the surprises, had been too much for her. The morrow morning came, bringing the formal free pardon for Abraham Dixon. The sheriff's order for her admission to see the old man lay awaiting her wish to use it; but she knew nothing of all this. For days, nay weeks, she hovered between life and death, tended, as of old, by Miss Monro, while good Mrs. Johnson was ever willing to assist. One summer evening in early June she wakened into memory, Miss Monro heard the faint piping voice, as she kept her watch by the bedside. "Where is Dixon?" asked she. "At the canon's house at Bromham." This was the name of Dr. Livingstone's county parish. "Why?" "We thought it better to get him into country air and fresh scenes at once." "How is he?" "Much better. Get strong, and he shall come to see you." "You are sure all is right?" said Ellinor. "Sure, my dear. All is quite right." Then Ellinor went to sleep again out of very weakness and weariness. From that time she recovered pretty steadily. Her great desire was to return to East Chester as soon as possible. The associations of grief, anxiety, and coming illness, connected with Hellingford, made her wish to be once again in the solemn, quiet, sunny close of East Chester. Canon Livingstone came over to assist Miss Monro in managing the journey with her invalid. But he did not intrude himself upon Ellinor, any more than he had done in coming from home. The morning after her return, Miss Monro said: "Do you feel strong enough to see Dixon?" "Is he here?" "He is at the canon's house. He sent for him from Bromham, in order that he might be ready for you to see him when you wished." "Please let him come directly," said Ellinor, flushing and trembling. She went to the door to meet the tottering old man; she led him to the easy-chair that had been placed and arranged for herself; she knelt down before him, and put his hands on her head, he trembling and shaking all the while. "Forgive me all the shame and misery, Dixon. Say you forgive me; and give me your blessing. And then let never a word of the terrible past be spoken between us." "It's not for me to forgive you, as never did harm to no one--" "But say you do--it will ease my heart." "I forgive thee!" said he. And then he raised himself to his feet with effort, and, standing up above her, he blessed her solemnly. After that he sat down, she by him, gazing at him. "Yon's a good man, missy," he said, at length, lifting his slow eyes and looking at her. "Better nor t'other ever was." "He is a good man," said Ellinor.