Catherine drew herself back quickly, as if stung by the girl's affection. "You have sworn," she interrupted her in a hoarse voice. "I tell you girl that you will surely die if you do not observe that oath."
Mary approached as if to embrace her mistress once more, her arms stretched out towards her pleadingly; but Catherine seized, her by the arm and pushed her back savagely—she was coming to her senses, and began to realize all she had done.
"Keep away, girl; keep away!" she almost shrieked. "You don't know what I have sacrificed for your sake—accursed be the day I met you!—accursed be my own weakness! Keep away from me! Don't come fawning on me or I will kill you."
Then without another word she turned and walked away rapidly through the woods and was lost to sight, leaving Mary confused, dazed, and full of compassion for the miserable woman whom she had loved so well; but after a few moments all other ideas vanished before the great happiness that had come to her.
The shadow had gone.
Oh, the blessed relief to the poor distracted soul! It was too intense a joy for her to bear! She lay down on the grass, and sobbed wildly, until Mrs. White, who had become anxious about her, came and found her there. Then the girl rose, and placing her arms round her friend's neck, cried with an hysterical laugh, "Dear, dear, Mrs. White! the kind God has answered your prayers for me."
That very evening, as soon as she reached Mrs. White's cottage, Mary wrote her first letter to Dr. Duncan, the first love letter of her life. It was a very short one.
"My love, Come to me as soon as you can,
"Your loving,
"MARY."