'Oh! By the way, would you have liked to have gone to see these said diversions? If so, I can send some one else with the wine.'
'Oh no, thank you, ma'am. I would much rather walk to see poor Lloyd.'
'Then you had better make haste.'
Gladys was soon on her way, through the wood, to the farm mentioned in the last chapter. She thoroughly enjoyed her walk on that lovely July day, and thought she had never heard the birds sing so sweetly before.
In truth, Gladys had not been so happy since her sorrows as she was now. She felt independent, and placed in a position where she knew her exact duties. She devoted herself and her time wholly to Miss Gwynne, and was repaid, not only by regular wages, but by kindness, and even affection from her mistress.
There was increased colour on her cheek, brightness in her eyes, mirth in her smile, elasticity in her step, and life in her whole being as she entered the cottage whither she was sent.
She found her patient better, and having given him some wine, read to him, and helped his wife to make his bed. She was preparing to leave the farm, when Owen made his appearance. He came, ostensibly to see the sick man, but prefaced his visit to him by shaking hands with Gladys, and talking to her.
When she left the house, he followed her into the yard.
'I have caught you at last, Gladys. You always run away from me as if I were a monster.'
'No, Mr Owen, you are mistaken.'