"I heard of this before," said Mary. "Am I to lose you, then, at once?" "We shall see," said Mrs. Buckley; "I have my ideas. Now, who do you think is going beside?" "Half Devonshire, I should think," said Mary; "at least, all whom I care about." "It would seem so, indeed, my poor girl," said Mrs. Buckley; "for your cousin Troubridge has made up his mind to come." "There was a time when I could have stopped him," she thought; "but that is gone by now." And she answered Mrs. Buckley:-- "Aunt and I will stay here, and think of you all. Shall we ever hear from you? It is the other side of the world, is it not?" "It is a long way; but we must wait, and see how things turn out. We may not have to separate after all. See, my dear; are you fully aware of your father's state? I fear you have only come home to see the last of him. He probably will be gone before this month is out. You see the state he is in. And when he is gone, have you reflected what to do?" Mary, weeping bitterly, said, "No; only that she could never live in Drumston, or anywhere where she was known." "That is wise, my love," said Mrs. Buckley, "under the circumstances. Have you made up your mind where to go, Miss Thornton, when you have to leave the Vicarage for a new incumbent?" "I have made up my mind," answered Miss Thornton, "to go wherever Mary goes, if it be to the other end of the earth. We will be Ruth and Naomi, my dear. You would never get on without me." "That is what I say," said Mrs. Buckley. "Never leave her. Why not come away out of all unhappy associations, and from the scorn and pity of your neighbours, to live safe and happy with all the best friends you have in the world?" "What do you mean?" said Mary. "Ah, if we could only do so!" "Come away with us," said Mrs. Buckley, with animation; "come away with us, and begin a new life. There is Troubridge looking high and low for a partner with five thousand pounds. Why should not Miss Thornton and yourself be his partners?" "Ah me!" said Miss Thornton. "And think of the voyage! But I shall not decide on anything; Mary shall decide." * * * * * Scarcely more than a week elapsed from the day that Mary came home, when there came a third messenger for old John Thornton, and one so peremptory that he arose and followed it in the dead of night. So, when they came to his bedside in the morning, they found his body there, laid as it was when he wished them good night, but cold and dead. He himself was gone, and nothing remained but to bury his body decently beside his wife's, in the old churchyard, and to shed some tears, at the thought that never, by the fireside, or in the solemn old church, they should hear that kindly voice again. And then came the disturbance of household gods, and the rupture of life-old associations. And although they were begged by the new comer not to hurry or incommode themselves, yet they too wished to be gone from the house whence everything they loved had departed.