Toward the middle of the forenoon Margery Maitland was considerably surprised by the appearance of a cart, drawn by a single horse, before her door; and a few moments later Percy entered the room where she stood.
“Percy! What does this mean?” She was trembling at every joint, and her face had turned pale.
“It means, mother,” the son promptly answered, “that I have at length carried into execution a plan which I have for several weeks contemplated.”
“You’re going to leave me?”
“Yes. I have engaged quarters with Vanyard at the village inn. I got my breakfast there.”
“Percy! You needn’t tell me! This is thought of suddenly. You didn’t dream of it when you came home last evening.”
“Never mind, mother. I dreamed of it during the night and this morning resolved to act.”
He advanced and laid a hand on her shoulder, and looked straight into her shrinking, cowering eyes.
“Margery Maitland! if you will leave the cause between us exactly where it is, I will do the same. If you force me to speak further, I shall speak that which you will not care to hear. Be wise and let it rest as it is. Be sure of one thing, if ever you suffer harm in life, if calamity of any kind shall befall you, it shall not be from me. I can not forget you are my mother. Mother! Mother! My last word to you shall be, from the very depths of my heart, God bless and keep you now and evermore!”