During this time Williams had received letters from his friends advising him to return no more—that Matilda had deceived him—that her conduct was improper in the extreme—that the story of her mother’s widowhood was an artful tale, invented to conceal the ignominious birth of her daughter, and that they were proved to be exiles from home, forced off by the resentment of their family. He, too, received a letter from Matilda, requesting to be exonerated from her vows, alleging a former attachment as the cause, which she declared herself unable to overcome. Nor did it end here. Dudley and Clara had so managed that the minds of the public should be prepared for the event of Williams’ desertion; and the unhappy girl soon found that not only had her lover fled, but with him her character, and of course her peace. At Williams’ request their school had been dismissed, and thus were they left, with sullied fame, and without the means of future support. In vain did they endeavor to investigate the matter. No one stepped forward to assist them, save some who lacked the ability to succor those whom they believed innocent. Two years passed by, and found their situation deplorable indeed. A deep melancholy had seized the widow’s mind; their efforts to re-assume their former office failed, and they were poor, friendless and afflicted. Matilda bore it with becoming dignity—all that industry and prudence could effect was done—but the rose was fled from her cheek, and the smile of peace was gone. Only by the bed side of the poor and dying, or afflicted, and within the walls of the house of God, did she venture to stray. But the influence of virtue will sooner or later be felt. Public sentiment cannot long remain stationary, and a reaction seemed gradually taking place in the Claytons’ favor. Again they requested to be patronised, and a few persons resolved again to try them. The fever of excitement was passed, and the minds of the community, as they grew more calm, began to look more closely into the nature of the case; and many now wondered that they had been so credulous as to believe what was so slightly proven. But it is needless to descend to particulars—suffice it to say, that they were again placed in a situation of comparative comfort; and many who had secretly shown some kindness to the sufferers, now boldly espoused their cause, and openly declared their belief in their innocence. Clara was still unmarried, and her deep hatred to Matilda now began to assume a more tangible form. No opportunity escaped her and Dudley, to asperse her character; and so marked was their enmity, that it attracted general attention.