Meg felt herself taken out; she recognized that she was in Rachel's arms. She was carried upstairs and undressed. She made no resistance, except to refuse the food Rachel pressed upon her.
At last she lay in bed and in the dark, communing and wrestling with her soul—living the troublous day over again. Sometimes thinking that she was once more struggling up that dusty highway; that she was falling and stumbling along; drifting away and then coming back to half-consciousness; and then dreamily hearing the thump, thump of crutches coming toward her, and catching a glimpse of a bright, bold face looking at her.
As she lay there oppressed by the weariness and bewilderment of that feverish time, a thirst for comfort rose in her little heart. She vaguely heard the rumble of carriage-wheels driving away, and she knew the old gentleman was gone.
In her sadness and longing for solace Meg was dropping off to sleep, when suddenly and softly she felt a kiss alight upon her forehead. She did not stir or question; she was too exhausted to wonder or to fear. After the day's fever and alarm she could not quail or wonder any more.
She fancied she heard light steps leave the room; but that kiss had brought the solace she yearned for, and she fell asleep.
CHAPTER XIV.
WHO GAVE THAT KISS.
A year and a half had elapsed since that wild outburst of rebellion against discipline had sent Meg flying Londonward. She had settled down into the routine of the school. Nothing now existed for her outside its boundaries. She had parted company with her childhood. The goblin past lay behind her, and as she looked back upon it the child who watched over the staircase almost appeared to have been a visionary creature.