Of course, I must adopt another name—what should it be? I should need clothing; and how secure and convey away my trunk unseen by Evelyn? My diamonds must be secreted or disposed of—how should this be done? Could I trust Mrs. Austin—Mabel?
No, the suggestion was discarded at once as unworthy of consideration.
One was too old, too self-indulged, too selfish; and in age people usually worship expediency alone. The other far too young not to be necessarily indiscreet and impulsive. To have been otherwise at her tender age would have been simply monstrous!
No, I must forego even the sweet satisfaction of saying farewell to Mabel; we must part perhaps forever, as we might meet again within an hour, and all her distress and anxiety must pass unshared and unheeded.
There was no one else I cared very much about leaving, but the love of locality was a strong feature in my disposition, and every room in my father's house was dear to me, as was every book in his study, and every plant in our deep-green, shadowed garden.
The very streets were sacred in my sight, that I had trodden from childhood, but my liberty was more precious to my heart than scenes of old associations, and to gain one the other must be sacrificed. There was no hesitating now: I was on the tread-mill of fate, and must proceed, or fall and be crushed beneath.
And here again I repeat, what I have said so recently: "On what slight pivots our destiny often turns!—through what small channels Providence works its wondrous ways!"
A pair of shoes had been sent home for me that day, which still lay on the table, wrapped and corded. In truth, they came very opportunely; "I shall want these soon," I thought, as I examined the strong and elastic bootees, which had been made for me in view of my morning walks, a part of dear Dr. Pemberton's regimen, which I strenuously and advantageously carried out.
As I spoke, the paper in which they had been enveloped rustled down on the floor by my side. I stooped, languidly, to pick it up, merely from a sense of order, and my eye fell on a long column, headed "Wanted," and, almost for lack of resolution to withdraw it, wandered down its paragraphs, step by step.
It was a Democratic paper, such as was never patronized by Evelyn—herself a zealous conservative in politics, as our father had been before us—and, as I cared little for newspaper-reading, I had never suggested a subscription to any sheet that she did not fancy, although I inclined to democracy.