One glance suffices. Replacing the papers, she binds the belt about her own body, and then envelopes herself in a huge water-proof, with swift, nervous fingers.
And now, for the second time, this girl is fleeing away from Oakley. Out into the night that is illuminated now by a faint, faint moon; through the bare, leafless, chilly woods, and down the path that crosses the railway track not far from the little station. Once more she follows the iron rails; once more she lingers in the shadows, until the train thunders up; the night train for New York. Then she springs on board.
For the second time, Madeline Payne is fleeing away from Oakley and all that it contains; fleeing cityward to begin, with the morrow, a new task, and a new chapter in her existence.
But no lover is beside her now; for that love is dead in her heart. And no Clarence breathes in her ear a warning, for now it is not needed. Since that first June flitting, she has learned the world and its wisdom, good and evil.
And the cloud that Hagar saw on that June night, hangs dark above the house of Oakley.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
CROSS PURPOSES.
An irate pair were seated at breakfast the morning after Céline's flitting. And while they ate little, they talked much and earnestly, sometimes angrily. They had arrived at the conclusion, which, although erroneous, had been foreseen by the astute Céline, namely: That the robbery had been committed at the instigation of Mr. Percy, and that Céline had been brought over and used by him as a tool.
It was evident that something must be done, and that quickly.