"Ah! you are there, my dear young lady," said the widow, smiling faintly; "when I first waken, I'm always in dread of finding myself again in that horrible asylum. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so. Compared to most of America, you’re rich. Now, as she stared at the image of her own face, she recalled something Major Alderley had said. Scissors with which to cut her hair, just in case. The crowning aspect of the incident, for her mind, was the discovery that he and her indiscretion with him no longer mattered very much. At last he could bear it no longer. The rooks were cawing amid the boughs, and all nature appeared awaking to happiness.
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