“If looks tell anything, her pale face aint no match for yourn in health, Huldah,” remarked Caleb, as he glanced somewhat reproachingly at the full, red features of his wife.
“A white face aint allus a sign of sickness; here I might be next to death, and my face be getting redder and redder at every pain,—but then who cares for me? No one, as I knows on.”
She turned and found she might have left her last words unspoken, for Caleb had gone to milk the cows, and she was alone.
It was no sudden thought. Every hour since the day they found her in the woods insensible, she had busily matured her plans. Those words,—“You can never be my wife,” made life to her of no moment, save to find a spot of obscurity in which to conceal her shame, and spare her old father the grief she knew it must bring him.
She must leave her home, none but strangers must know of her sorrow; and when health returned and she went about her daily toils, a short time prior to the crisis of her grief, she deeply thought upon where she might turn her weary steps. She had heard of a factory in N—, a town twenty miles distant, where girls earned a great deal of money. She would go there and work until-O, the pain, the anguish of her heart, as the terrible truth came close and closer every day upon her. And then she would go. Where? No mother's love to help her, no right granted her to bring another life into being. How keenly upbraiding came to her at that moment the great truth, a truth which cannot be too deeply impressed upon every human mind, that no child should be ushered into this world without due preparation on the part of its parents for its mental, moral and physical well-being. Let pity drop a tear, for sad indeed was her lot.
One day she gathered what little clothing she possessed, and made up a small parcel preparatory to her departure, and as her only time of escape would be in the night, she carefully concealed it, and went about her work in her usual, silent manner.
One moonlight night when all was still, she took her little bundle and went softly down stairs. Noiselessly she trod across the kitchen floor, pulled the bolt, lifted the latch, and stood outside. For an instant she paused. A rush of feelings came over her, a feeling of regret, for it was hard even for her to break away from familiar scenes, and leave the roof that had sheltered her; but it would not do to linger long, for Trot might bark and arouse her father. Then she could not bear the thought that she should never see the faithful old dog again; and almost decided to go to him, but the thought had scarcely entered her mind ere her old companion was at her side. His keen sense of hearing had caught the sound of her movements, though to her they had seemed noiseless, and he had come from his kennel and stood at her side, looking up in her face as though he knew all her plans.
Her courage almost forsook her as he stood there, wagging his tail and eyeing her so closely. She feared that he would follow her, and thought she must go back to her room and make a new start; but now she was out of the house, and, perhaps she could not escape another time without disturbing her parents. This thought nerved her to carry out her resolve, and she walked rapidly away. One look at the old house, as her step was on the hill which would soon hide it from her view. One more look at old Trot, then she waved her hand for him to go back, and swiftly walked as though borne by some unseen power. The grey light of morning touched the eastern hills just as she lost sight of her native village.
New scenes were before her, and from them she gathered fresh inspiration. The houses scattered along the roadside, from which persons were just coming forth to labor, gave her new feelings and enlivened her way, until at length something like fear that she might be recognized and sent back came upon her; but her fears were groundless, and she passed on and soon came to a deep, wooded road, closely hedged on either side by tall trees, whose spreading branches seemed to her like protecting arms. There she could walk slower, and breathe more free, and for the first time for many days her mind relaxed its tension.
She was plodding along, musing upon the past and trying to discern some outline of her future, when the sound of steps following her caused the blood to leap to her face. Looking around she beheld Trot, and ordered him back; but words were of no avail; he had scented her footsteps thus far, and seemed determined to follow her to her journey's end.