That cold and grudging provision for her wants, thrown to her at the last moment, transported Susan with a sudden touch of passion foreign to her nature; it sent her across the moor at a speed which she could not have equalled under any other circumstances. The dew was on the early heather-bells, and the solitary golden flower-pods which lighted the dark whin bushes opened under her eye to the morning sun; but though the scene had many charms at that hour and season, and though the whins and straggling seedlings caught her dress as if to detain her, the young wayfarer made no pause.
“The tears that gathered in her eye
She left the mountain breeze to dry.”
And pushing forward, with all the sudden force of a sensitive nature, urged beyond strength or patience, pressed along the rustling moorland path, without once turning her eyes to look upon that house from which the last gleam of hope disappeared with her disappearance. Henceforth all life of youth and light of affection were severed from Marchmain.
END OF VOL. II.
R. BORN, PRINTER, GLOUCESTER STREET, REGENT’S PARK.
| Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber: |
|---|
| delighful books=> delightful books {pg 57} |
| traveling=> travelling {pg 173} |
| he could scarely believe=> he could scarcely believe {pg 281} |