After an interval of profound silence, the woman began to speak: "Lord, Thou art here! Come close, Lord, close, and fold—yes, fold—this little tempestuous being in Thy embrace! Lord, have mercy, have pity——"
She suddenly stopped, for there came a resounding smack on her cheek.
"Stay here, Quaker woman!" said Henrietta. "This room is not fit for me. I am going out!"
Before poor Dinah could rise from her knees, Henrietta had dashed away, had flown down the quiet, orderly house and out into the soft, summer night. She ran fast, as though furies were pursuing her. She soon left the precincts of Felicity and still ran on and on, with panting breath, cheeks on fire, and a little rumpled head of fiery hair.
She saw a wood in the distance, and got into it. The dew lay heavy on the grass—oh, how cool, how delicious! She flung herself on the grass and fell sound asleep.
Poor distracted Dinah came down in a state of anything but peace to Mrs. Faithful.
"She's gone, m'm."
"Gone! Who? Which?"
"I don't know anything about Daisy, Jane Faithful. It's Henrietta. She's very queer, and when I tried to comfort her and offered up a few words of prayer, directed assuredly by the Blessed Spirit, she smacked me on the cheek. Not that I mind that—thou knowest it is but a trifle—but before I could stop her, she had flown, I know not where. She was quite tractable until I took her to her beautiful bedroom, and then the name sent her wild. I'm afraid we shall have trouble with her, dear Jane Faithful."
"Dinah," said Mrs. Faithful, "do you think she has gone out?"