“God forgive me for deceiving her!” thought Margaret. “But I cannot do otherwise. He knows that.”
Scarcely was her mother out of the house than Margaret hastily rose from the bed, and with trembling fingers arrayed herself in the garments which had been so long laid aside. They had been carefully washed and mended by her mother, so that they looked comparatively respectable. She threw them on very hastily, fearing that her mother would return and detect her. She saw half a dollar on the mantel. This also she took, knowing that she should need money, and left the house.
When her mother returned with the orange she found, to her dismay, that her daughter had disappeared. On the table there was a scrap of paper, with these words traced hurriedly upon it:—
“Forgive the artifice I have employed, dear mother. I knew you would not let me go, and I must. There is something of great importance that I must attend to without delay. When that is over, I may come back to you.
“Margaret.
“P. S. I took a half dollar from the mantel, as I may need it.”
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE GOOD SAMARITAN.
Surprised and terrified at her daughter’s disappearance, the old lady went to the door and, shading her eyes, looked anxiously up the road, but with her failing eyesight she was unable to catch sight of the fugitive.
“The child must be crazy,” she said to herself. “She’ll catch her death of cold, going out so soon after the fever. I must go after her and bring her back.”
Putting on her hood once more, the old lady went out, and took the road towards the city. But she did not find her daughter. Returning with a heavy heart and a sense of deep perplexity she sat down to her knitting, first carefully putting away the orange, which she thought Margaret might like to eat if, as she hoped, she should discover her weakness and return home at night.