She was now able to walk alone, without assistance, and one day she walked to the village churchyard, to visit the grave of her beloved. She read the inscription, "To the memory of my dear brother Gerald." Should not her name have been there? She was nearer to him than any other human being. She resolved to seek without delay an explanation from Leonard. On her way to and from the churchyard she met with many persons, and was avoided by all. A woman and her young daughter, a girl of sixteen, passed close to her; the mother drew her child away from Emilia so that their dresses should not come in contact. She met the village priest, who looked at her reprovingly, and then turned in an opposite direction. Was she, then, a pariah? What crime had she committed? Once more in her room in the inn she forced herself to a practical examination into a matter which had surprised her. Certain articles of jewellery had been given to her by Gerald. They were gone. All that she possessed in remembrance of her dear husband were her wedding-ring and a ring set with diamonds, which had never left her fingers. Possibly if these had been lying loose they would have shared the fate of her other mementos. Quite as strange was the circumstance that everything belonging to Gerald had been removed during her illness from the rooms she and her husband had occupied. Her purse, too, was empty; there was not a coin in it. She could not remember whether she had any money before she received the terrible news of Gerald's death; indeed, with reference to past events, her memory was in the same state as it had been after the good old wagoner had taken her to his home in England. During that period she was not in a condition to gain any knowledge of her surroundings, and she did not even know the name of the place in which she and Gerald had been married. Up to the morning of that day her mind had been a blank, and Gerald, out of consideration for her, had made no attempt to revive memories which in their inception had brought so much suffering to his dear girl. The only thing that was clear to Emilia was the memory of the shame into which she had been plunged by Mrs. Seaton's calumnies, and when her mind reverted to the experiences of those dark days she strove shudderingly to thrust them from her. But there was something in her present position which seemed, in some dread manner, to be connected with that shame and with the horror of the slanders which had ruined her good name, and strive as she would she could not banish the remembrance. She sent for Leonard and he came at her bidding. "I have visited my husband's grave," she said. "My dear brother Gerald's grave," he said in correction. "I said my husband's grave," she repeated. "And I replied, my dear brother Gerald's grave." There was a dark, stern look in his eyes, and she did not have the courage to come straight to the point. "I believe you to be my friend," she said.