And yet what hope, what chance, what possibility was there that this auspicious moment should come now? Had not “everybody” been driven away? This was how she phrased it to herself--not one person, but every one. Who could approach her now in the solitude which was a more effectual guard than twenty brothers? If “any one” wished to come, if any one had anything to say, why, the visit must be postponed, and the words left unsaid, until--how could she tell how long? Three years had passed between Arthur Arden’s two last visits. What if three years should come and go again before Chance or Fate brought him back? It could only be Chance that had done it this time, not Providence; for if Providence had been the agent, then the visit must have come to something, and not ended without result. Thus Clare mused, as it were, in the depths of her being, concealing even from herself what she was thinking. When Arthur Arden’s name flitted across that part of her mind which lay, so to speak, in the light, she blushed, and started with a sense of guilt; but in the shadowy corners, where thought has no need of words, and where a hundred aimless cogitations pass like breath, and no sense of responsibility comes in, she put no bridle upon her dreaming fancy. And it was all new to her; for dreams had never been much in Clare’s way. Hers had been a practical intelligence, busied with many things to do and think of--the village and her subjects in it; the legislation necessary for them; the wants of the old women and the children--a hundred matters of detail which deserved the consideration of a wise ruler, and yet must be kept subordinate to greater principles. Even the larger questions affecting the estate had come more or less into Clare’s hands. She had been allowed no time to dream, and she had not dreamt; but now idleness and loneliness fell upon her both together. She was weary of the village and its concerns. She had nothing else to occupy her. And, indeed, she had no desire for other occupations, but preferred this new musing--this maze of fancies--to anything else in earth and heaven.