He had returned to Greenvale feeling that Chip was his devoted slave and had found that she was. Like many another arrogant youth, he had plumed himself upon that fact, taking everything for granted. He had yielded to his aunt’s and other friends’ coaxings to tell his past winter’s history of life in the woods, feeling that Chip could and would wait; and then, an unexpected and most vexatious frost had fallen upon his little love-garden, and presto! his confiding sweetheart, his almost abject slave, was one no longer.
At the moment of starting, that wildwood camp and charming lake had seemed a Mecca which he must hasten to reach once more. When he again beheld it, it had lost its fairness, and to return to Greenvale and beg and implore Chip’s forgiveness–ay, even kneel to her, if need be–seemed the only duty life held.
His punishment had only just begun.
PART II
VERA RAYMOND
CHAPTER XXV
For a few more days, Chip lived the life that had now become unbearable, and then the end came. It was hastened, perhaps, by Hannah, for that ill-tempered spinster had been ever watchful, and with shrewd insight had seen or guessed all that had transpired.
“I s’pose ye know why the Frisbies hurried away so soon after Ray got back,” she said to Chip that last day. “If you don’t, I can tell ye. It was ’cos they noticed the goin’s on ’tween you an’ him, an’ wanted to head it off.”
Not a word of protest came from the poor child in response to this sneer, and that night she wrote two notes, one to Miss Phinney, the other to Aunt Comfort. Then, making a bundle of the few belongings she could call her own–the beaded moccasins, cap, and fur cape old Tomah had given her, and other trifles–she waited until almost midnight and stole out of the house.