Home was her first thought. Who could shield her but her father
and sister? How she longed for their comfort and guardianship!
But how reach them? She had money but could do little for her.
England never less resembled those days of Brian Boromhe when the
maiden with the gems, rich and rare wandered unscathed form sea to
sea in Ireland. Post chaises, though coming into use, had not
dawned on the simple country girl's imagination. She knew there
was a weekly coach from London to Bath, passing through Brentford,
and that place was also a great starting-place for stage waggons,
of which one went through Carminster, but her bewildered brain
could not recall on what day it started, and there was an additional
shock of despair when she remembered that it was Sunday morning.
The chill of the morning dew was on her limbs, she was exhausted
by her fatigues of the night, a drowsy recollection of the children
in the wood came over her, and she sank into a dreamy state that
soon became actual sleep. She was wakened by a strong bright
sunbeam on her eyes, and found that this was what had warmed her
limbs in her sleep. A sound as of singing was also in her ears,
and of calling cows to be milked. She did not in the least know
where she was, for she had wandered into parts of the wood quite
strange to her, but she thought she must be a great way from home,
and quite beyond recognition, so she followed the voice, and soon
came out on a tiny meadow glade, where a stout girl was milking a
great sheeted cow.
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