Elsie was very, very tired with the long examination she had to undergo. All she could make out of it was that these people, whose real names were John and Lucy Murdoch, were suspected of having stolen a great deal of money from rich people. At last Elsie was told she might go, and the officer of whom she had seen so much came forward to lead her away. As she was passing out, who should she see coming towards her but Meg. She lifted her eyes, and looked with a frightened glance at Elsie. Her eyes were red, and she looked altogether most wretched and unhappy.
"I haven't told a word," Elsie couldn't help whispering as she passed close by her; but Meg did not seem to hear, for she never raised her head or even smiled.
Elsie wondered what they were going to do with her, and hoped she would not get into any trouble. But she could not help thinking of her own miseries. Now, she supposed, she must go back again to that dreadful workhouse, with its harsh matron and dreadful companions, its misery, discomfort, and loneliness. She could not help shuddering and gulping back the sorrowful sobs that seemed to choke her. She was very tired and down-hearted.
The man touched her on the arm. She lifted her eyes, and saw standing close by, her mother, Mrs. MacDougall. In a moment Elsie flew towards her with a cry of joy, exclaiming "Oh! take me home, mother; take me away, please."
"I've got the discharge from the magistrate," Mrs. MacDougall explained. "I applied for it this morning directly after the court was opened."
"in a moment elsie flew towards her" ([p. 324]).
"Quite right, ma'am," the man assented. Then turning to Elsie, he exclaimed, "Now, my girl, you're free to go home with your mother; and if you take my advice, you won't try running away again. You're just fortunate to have got off as you have. If it hadn't been for our tracking the Murdochs just when we did, there's no telling what would have become of you. They are not the sort that would hesitate to get rid of you in any way that came first when they found they didn't want you; and all I say is you may be thankful you stand where you do at this moment."
"You've just had a narrow escape of being drawn into a den of sin and iniquity," Mrs. MacDougall added fervently, "and I'm right thankful to the Almighty for the good care He's taken of you. I'm sure, sir, you're very kind to this erring lass, and I'm right grateful for all your goodness."