But in the meantime the copious shower of water she had poured over Flower had taken effect.
While Jewel was battering at the door of the servants' quarters Flower had revived and found the door wide open, and such a draught of sweet, pure air rushing into the room that it seemed to endow her with new life.
She dragged herself wearily into the hall and heard Jewel's angry voice berating the servants down in the yard. She instantly suspected the true state of the case.
"She thinks I am dead, and wishes to arouse the servants. I must try to escape before she returns," she moaned, faintly, and made her way down-stairs like a spirit, slipped the bolt of the front door, and let herself out, friendless and homeless, into the dark.
[CHAPTER XVIII.]
Nothing but her terrible fear of being recaptured and imprisoned by her relentless foe could have given poor Flower the strength to get away from the house that, after being her home so long, had become a place "by horror haunted."
But with a brave heart, although her footsteps faltered often, she set off from the spot, traveling as fast as her reduced strength would permit, and taking the high-road that led away from the town and toward the deserted cabin of the dead nurse.
It was instinct rather than intention that led her to the place; for she had no thought of stopping there, but only of putting miles of space between herself and Jewel, of whom she had now become horribly afraid.