Her name was Nowell.
"Soon after this I encountered her on the cliff one afternoon with her little girl.

The child and I had met once or twice before in the hall; and her recognition of me led to a little friendly talk between me and the mother.

She was a fragile delicate-looking woman, who had once been very pretty, but whose beauty had for the most part been worn away, either by ill-health or trouble.

She was very young, five-and-twenty at the utmost.

She told me that the little girl was her only child, and that her husband was away from England, but that she expected his return before long.
"After this we met almost every afternoon; and I began to look out for these meetings, and our quiet talk upon the solitary cliff, as the pleasantest part of my day.