She turned, in affright, and, upon seeing me, hurried the more. But I overtook her, and placed her arm within mine in a moment, saying,—
"Rachel, you are not afraid of me, I hope!"
"Oh, no, Sir! no, indeed!" she exclaimed.
"And yet you run away from me."
She made no answer.
"Rachel," I said, at last, "I wish you would talk to me freely. I wish you would tell what troubles you."
She hesitated a moment; and when, at last, she spoke, her answer rather surprised me.
"I ought not to be so weak, I know," she replied; "but it is so hard to stand all alone, to live my life just right, that sometimes I get discouraged."
I had expected complaints of ill treatment, but found her blaming no one but herself.
"And who said you must stand alone?" I asked.