By the time Morley had mechanically fulfilled these commands, Marcia Lowe had decided, from the sound of Molly's breathing, that she might safely be left alone, and, cloaked and hooded, joined Martin outside.
It was a dreary ride, and the two spoke seldom.
"You are to be no coward, Morley," Marcia Lowe had said; "you're to face your future like a man—like Sandy's father. He will well understand. I will stand by you and see fair play for you; I'll pay for a good lawyer, and you will take your medicine, whatever it is, and be clean and decent for your boy and girl. I'll take care of Molly."
After a time Martin agreed to this, but from the shivering of the form beside her, the little doctor realized the struggle.
And so they reached Morley's cabin and entered, like ghosts, into the fear-haunted place. Mary was gone. The fire was smouldering in the last flashes, the damp ashes were drying—but Mary had made a bodily escape.
"So!" whispered Marcia Lowe. "It was better to make sure. Go upstairs, see if she is there."
Mary was not there.
"Now come back."
Through the chill of the early morning the two drove silently back to Trouble Neck and with strange foreboding the little doctor made her way at once to the lean-to bed-chamber—Molly, too, was gone! She had made her way to Teale's, Miss Lowe felt sure.
The next morning the news spread fast, garbled by many tongues.