“Now go up, pack your bundle, and be off,” said Gaspar; “and never set foot in Wildwaste again; and remember that guilt lies on your soul if you keep not your promise to the letter.”
“May I not stay till I can bid good-bye to dear Miss Isa?” pleaded Lottie.
“You may not stay an hour; I do not choose that you should see her; take your money and your clothes and be gone. Leave the candle; I will stay behind to make sure that all is right—and to lock the door,” added Gritton, under his breath; “I will not neglect that precaution again.”
Lottie, tightly grasping her dearly-won treasure, mounted the ladder, and re-entered the study through the trap-door. She hastily replaced the little weight on its gilded stand, and then ran upstairs to make her brief preparations for quitting Wildwaste for ever. Lottie soon put up her bundle, for her earthly possessions were few, and with it in her hand descended the staircase. Tears gushed from her eyes as she reached the door of Isa’s chamber; Lottie could not help lingering there for a minute to breathe a prayer for the young mistress so dearly beloved. “Oh! shall I never serve her again, never listen to her sweet kind voice, never comb out her long soft hair! What will she say of me, what will she think of me—will she not call me the most ungrateful girl in the world?” Lottie’s heart swelled at the idea, and it was with a low stifled sob that she turned away from the door.
She found her master in the hall, himself unfastening the bolts of the outer door. Mr. Gritton was impatient to have the girl out of the house, and beyond the temptation of communicating with any one in the hamlet.
“Your father is in Southampton—you had better join him there,” observed Gaspar. “Remember your solemn promise of silence made in the sight of Heaven.”
Lottie turned as she crossed the threshold, “O sir—pray—at least—let my dear mistress know that—”
Gaspar would not listen, he closed the door in her face, and Lottie found herself alone with her bundle and her gold in the chill crisp air of early morning. A dim line of red in the east showed where the sun would shortly rise, but as Lottie hastened through the hamlet there was not the sound of a human voice to break the stillness; Wildwaste was still asleep; in the great manufactory the busy hum of labour had not yet begun. But on the common, where the night dews lay heavy on fern and furze-bush, the lark, an early riser, was already mounting on quivering wing, and pouring out his song of joy to greet the advancing morn.
