In superintending these works, particularly that of the church-building, her daughter Betty was her constant companion, and the incidents of their execution were doubtless not without a soothing effect upon the young creature's heart. She had sprung from girl to woman by a sudden bound, and few would have recognized in the thoughtful face of Betty now the same person who, the year before, had seemed to have absolutely no idea whatever of responsibility, moral or other. Time passed thus till the Squire had been nearly a year in his vault; and Mrs. Dornell was duly asked by letter by the patient Reynard if she were willing for him to come soon. He did not wish to take Betty away if her mother's sense of loneliness would be too great, but would willingly live at King's-Hintock awhile with them. Before the widow had replied to this communication, she one day happened to observe Betty walking on the south terrace in the full sunlight, without hat or mantle, and was struck by her child's figure. Mrs. Dornell called her in, and said suddenly: 'Have you seen your husband since the time of your poor father's death?' 'Well--yes, mamma,' says Betty, colouring. 'What--against my wishes and those of your dear father! I am shocked at your disobedience!' 'But my father said eighteen, ma'am, and you made it much longer--' 'Why, of course--out of consideration for you! When have ye seen him?' 'Well,' stammered Betty, 'in the course of his letters to me he said that I belonged to him, and if nobody knew that we met it would make no difference. And that I need not hurt your feelings by telling you.' 'Well?' 'So I went to Casterbridge that time you went to London about five months ago--' 'And met him there? When did you come back?' 'Dear mamma, it grew very late, and he said it was safer not to go back till next day, as the roads were bad; and as you were away from home--' 'I don't want to hear any more! This is your respect for your father's memory,' groaned the widow. 'When did you meet him again?' 'Oh--not for more than a fortnight.' 'A fortnight! How many times have ye seen him altogether?' 'I'm sure, mamma, I've not seen him altogether a dozen times.' 'A dozen! And eighteen and a half years old barely!' 'Twice we met by accident,' pleaded Betty. 'Once at Abbot's-Cernel, and another time at the Red Lion, Melchester.' 'O thou deceitful girl!' cried Mrs. Dornell. 'An accident took you to the Red Lion whilst I was staying at the White Hart! I remember--you came in at twelve o'clock at night and said you'd been to see the cathedral by the light o' the moon!' 'My ever-honoured mamma, so I had! I only went to the Red Lion with him afterwards.' 'Oh Betty, Betty! That my child should have deceived me even in my widowed days!' 'But, my dearest mamma, you made me marry him!' says Betty with spirit, 'and of course I've to obey him more than you now!'