“Something more than a matter of life and death! And oh, I must be gone!” said the girl, with the same look of terror that she had shown once before, now smiting all the remaining color from her pale face, and leaving it white as marble.
“Good-bye—good-bye, and a thousand heart-felt thanks for all your kindness,” she added.
While she spoke she deftly slid the bolts of the door, and as she ceased she quickly slipped through it, and ran away like one who feared to be hindered or pursued.
“Stop! stop!” screamed Jenny, rushing after her, and looking out into the night.
But her strange visitor had vanished in the darkness.
“Hech! she’s clean daft, and she’ll perish in the storm!” cried Jenny in consternation, as she drew in her head.
“Come away, gudewife, and shut the door!” bawled old Andy, provoked past his patience.
“Eh, gude man, rin—rin after her. Ye may catch her an ye start now,” prayed Jenny, pulling down her husband’s shawl from its peg, and throwing it over his shoulders—“rin, rin for your life, Andy!”
“De’il be in my legs, then, if I budge a foot from the fire! I’m in a condition to rin, am I no? wi’ both my shoes off and mysel’ soaking wi’ sweat! I’ll no rin for ony daft lass or lad in Christendom!” grumbled the old man.
“But for the Lord’s sake, Andy!” pleaded the woman.