As time passed and no human being approached Mittie began to realise that things were growing serious. Light faded fast, and soon her little figure would be invisible, even if somebody did pass near. It grew very cold too, and Mittie felt quite chilled and stiff with long exposure. The idea of being all alone here after dark was terrible to the sensitive child. Fortitude failed at last, and she broke into bitter sobs, crying out for help.
In an interval of crying her eyes were caught by a faint light beyond the first meadow. Mittie knew it to be the Rectory light, and the very sight brought a thrill of hope. "O Marjory! Marjory! do come!" wailed Mittie at first; and then— "But Marjory would tell me to ask God," she thought. And with the wailing sobs, which she was too cold and frightened to check, were childish murmurs of prayer and trust. Was ever such pleading unanswered?
[CHAPTER XXXIII.]
NOT MARJORY!
"MISS RIVERS, if you please—there's a woman just come—"
Hermione turned upon Slade a face of such marble whiteness that he stopped, dumbfounded. She looked like one who has received some sharp blow. But she said only—
"Yes, go on. A woman has come—"
"The one who sometimes does a bit of weeding, Miss. She says her little boy saw Miss Mittie go into the meadows behind the Rectory this afternoon."
"She would not be there now, of course. Has any one been to look?"
"I don't know, Miss. I thought I should find Mrs. Trevor here. It did just come to my mind as Miss Mittie might have got hurt or been frightened. The banks are slippery down by the stream. And besides—"