Again she waved him away.
“Living or dead, you shall not lay a finger on my child,” she said, bitterly, adding, with a burst of grief: “I am sorry, sorry that you ever darkened the farmhouse door; but I never dreamed you would lure my girl’s heart from her, and then coolly inform us that you were going away.”
He made the irate mother no answer; indeed, of what use would it be to defend his actions? Nothing that he would say would mend matters. He must go at once. It was very sad; very pitiful; but all the same he must go.
He said good-by to Mrs. Caldwell, and turned sorrowfully away, when she turned stolidly in another direction, refusing to take any notice of him. It was better that he should go ere Lucy returned to consciousness.
An hour later he was speeding on toward New York, leaving the farm and its occupants far behind him, to see them never again. He meant to see Jess at once, and have the parting over with her without unnecessary delay, and after that—well, it mattered little enough to him what became of him.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
A GREAT SURPRISE.
“Like some lone bird, without a mate,
My weary heart is desolate;
I look around, and cannot trace
One friendly smile, one welcoming face;