She did not like to trust its delivery to any third party. Although the walk to Lantwell was not a short one, she would not have hesitated, at another time, to have carried it thither herself; but to undertake such a mission at night, over a lonely and secluded route, was a task of danger. It is true, she might secure ample protection against any harm, in the shape of insult or violence, by taking with her one of the servants; but the presence of the sheriff’s minions required that she should make her egress unobserved. Indeed, she doubted not that she was herself closely watched; and that her own movements, even when she was unattended by any servant, would be observed with suspicion, and followed with jealousy.
Considering all these circumstances, she ultimately resolved to venture out on the undertaking herself. At first, indeed, she thought of securing the companionship of Martha, but, on further consideration, she reflected that, if need were, that individual could not afford her any protection, and that two persons would not pass unseen so easily as one; and, on these grounds, the project appeared impolitic. She could not conceal from herself that the company of Martha would render her more confident, but she was aware, nevertheless, that this confidence would not bear a scrutiny, since the resolution of Martha was even less than her own. The trial, to a girl of her habits and disposition, was a great one; but the emergency also was a great one; and, as has been stated, she finally determined to set out on the mission herself.
Having come to this conclusion, the next object that engaged her attention, preparatory to carrying it into effect, was how to pass out unobserved. After a short pause, she resolved to don an old cloak of Martha’s, with a long hood, that was lying on a contiguous chair; and, thus disguised, watch for a favourable moment to steal forth. No sooner did the idea occur to her, than, catching up the cloak, she proceeded to put it in execution.
Throwing the cloak over her fair shoulders, she drew the hood, which was round and full, close over her brow, and then sallied forth. She descended the stairs beyond without seeing any one, or, as far as she could tell, being seen herself. She had no light; but the night, though it was now growing late, was not dark; and, on reaching the hall, she was easily able to make her way to the rearward door.
The door, which was fortunately unfastened, led into a small porch, opening into the park. Evaline, gratified that she had so far escaped notice, entered the porch with tolerable composure; and, briefly commending herself to the protection of Heaven, she ventured to pass into the park.
There was no one about. Drawing her cloak closely round her, she directed her steps to that walk which, it may be remembered, has been before mentioned in this history, and which opened into the public footpath to Lantwell. She had just entered the walk, when, pausing to look round, she heard a voice calling to her to stop.
She resumed her progress at her utmost speed. Her heart beat audibly, and her fears, which the abruptness of the alarm had raised beyond endurance, almost arrested her breath, but she ran on still. She imagined every successive shrub to be an ambushed enemy, and, as she passed along, she was afraid to look about her, but kept her eyes straight on her path, lest she should discern on either hand some terror. At last, wearied and breathless, she arrived at the public footway, and there ventured to pause.
A full minute elapsed before she had completely recovered her breath. Meanwhile, her ears were on the alert, and her attention alive to the least noise. To her surprise, however, no sounds of pursuit were audible, and, after a brief interval, she set forwards again.
Once in the footpath, which lay across an open part of the park, her view was less interrupted; and consequently, though the night was somewhat cloudy, and prevented her seeing any great distance, she was able to satisfy herself that no person was about. She pursued her way, therefore, with more confidence, though still with a hasty step; and shortly arrived at the park-boundary.