The first ray of the sun found itself entangled in the hair of Mistress Merrill. Garde had not slept during the night. She had not gone to bed, nor had she prepared her mind for obedience to her grandfather’s commands. She had spent the hours sitting at the window, waiting for the morning.
She now sped swiftly through the unawakened streets, a prey to a sense of fear that she was being pursued. From time to time she cast a quick glance across her shoulder, but there was no one following. There was hardly a sound, save that a few birds—hardy little scouts, ahead of the northward-creeping caravan of summer—twittered and set up rival centers of melody in the trees.
There was no hesitation in the girl’s footsteps. She knew where she was going. Goody Dune’s was the only place where she could go, with her present resolutions. She had come to a logical conclusion, as to what was now to be done, shortly after leaving David Donner. Her mouth was firmly set, where determination had come to abide.
As always, she found Goody stirring about, with her door wide open, when she came to the tidy little home. Goody beheld her coming before she reached the gate. Peering into her face knowingly, the old woman gave a little shake to her head. She was adept at deciphering the hieroglyphics which human emotions write upon brows and lips and eyes, especially in the faces of the young.
“So your grandfather insists and you are going to run away?” she said, as Garde came eagerly up the garden path to the door.
“Yes,” said Garde, in some awe of the wise old woman and her means of acquiring knowledge, “and I want you to help me,—oh, you must help me—just as fast as you can! How did you know?”
“I could see that you were deeply troubled, and I know exactly what a girl like you would do,” said Goody. “I was the same kind of a girl, once, myself. Now tell me, first, where are you going.”
“I don’t know,” said Garde, “I think to Plymouth, to my aunt Rosella.”
“You would do well to make up your mind on that point,” said Goody. “And how are you going, shall you sail, or ride, or walk?”
“Oh, I shall run,” said Garde.