The last few months had been
very tranquil ones for Ann Holland. The one anxiety of her quiet life
had been removed, and after the first sorrow was passed she had found
her home a very peaceful place without her brother. Her old neighbors
could come in now to take tea with her without any dread of being rudely
disturbed. The business did not suffer; it was rather increasing, and
she had had some thoughts of employing a second journeyman. But to hear
that Mr. Chantrey was going to leave Upton, and that very soon she
should see neither him nor Charlie, who made her house so merry whenever
he ran in, was as great a blow to her as to Mrs. Bolton.
Ann Holland had been born in the house she lived in, and had never dwelt
anywhere else. All her world lay within the compass of a few miles from
it, among the farm-houses where her business or her early friendships
had made her acquainted with the inhabitants. The people of Upton only
were her fellow-countrymen; all others were foreigners, and to her,
lawful objects of mistrust. Every other land save her own seemed a
strange and perilous place.
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