CHAPTER XI.
AWAY.
The day had shot a golden arrow across the uncurtained window of thedormitory when Meg awoke. The sense of something to be done confusedlyurged itself upon her mind, and she jumped out of bed. In a flash sheremembered everything, and with trembling trepidation she asked herselfwas she late? Were the servants stirring? The profound silence in thehouse reassured her. Outside she saw the sky saffron and rose behind thetrees, and she heard the birds singing their matins. Meg began to dressrapidly. She was careful in her speed. She was going on a long journeyon foot, and she must not look like a little tramp.
Having completed her toilette she took up her parcel and softly openedthe door. Her nerves were tense with excitement, and a restrainedtrembling shook her from head to foot. How still it was! She had astrange fancy; the silence seemed as though some unseen presence wasthere listening and watching. The shutters were closed everywhere; onlya gleam of light flickered through the skylight on the lobby. If shestumbled she would wake some of the inmates; she kept thinking as shestole down. Once she nearly lost her footing. She fancied she had cometo the last step of a flight of stairs when two or three still remainedto descend. Had she not caught herself up in time she would have fallen,and, weighted as she was, the clatter would have been heard through thehouse.
As she crossed the hall she knocked up against something which fell witha muffled sound, that in the gulf of silence came like a boom. Meglistened. She heard the furtive clicking of a door above. She waitedmotionless. It was succeeded by no sound of footsteps, and she concludedit was the creaking of an unclosed door. Then she resumed her progress.She groped her way down to the kitchen--she knew there was nopossibility of letting herself out by the hall door--it was dark there,and she knocked her foot against a chair and hurt herself. But she didnot mind the pain. All her capabilities of feeling were strained inlistening. Had she been heard? The silence still lay like a spell overthe house. She shut the door that isolated the downstairs premises andshe felt safer.
All depended still upon the caution of her movements, as she turned thekey and unbarred the bolts of the door of the servants' exit. Withdetermined quiet the deft brown hands proceeded upon their task whenanother danger met Meg. Pilot began to bark outside. His kennel wasclose to the kitchen door, and the furtive sounds had caught his ear androused his suspicions. Every bark grew louder, and he growled savagely.Meg controlled the trembling that seized her, and the next movementopened the door and encountered the dog. Pilot was reputed dangerous bythe schoolgirls, but Meg had no fear. In her isolation she had madefriends with the mastiff. At sight of the little figure with handuplifted to enjoin silence, Pilot paused in the spring he was crouchingto make, and stopped barking.
"Hush, Pilot," whispered Meg in a concentrated voice; "don't bark, noton any account, Pilot! I am running away because I am miserable.Good-by, old Pilot!"
Pilot looked at Meg with questioning eyes, debating the reasonablenessof her speech. He apparently hesitated to commend the step she wastaking, for he did not return her greeting with any demonstration, butremained with head erect and pricked ears surveying her, and let her goin silence.
Meg went round to the kitchen-garden. She had decided to escape thatway. The wall was covered with a trellis-work on which fruit wastrained. Meg threw her parcel lightly over and began to clamber. Sheheard the unripe plums fall as she climbed with a sure-footedness thatwas one of her claims to the title of "savage" bestowed upon her by herschoolmates. With the agility of a squirrel she swung herself over anddropped among the nettles that grew at the base of the wall.
She sprang to her feet, picked up her parcel, conscious of one dominantemotion only--she was out of Moorhouse; she was free! Like a birdwinging its way to more genial climes Meg dashed forward.
Across two fields at the back of the house, the bright road lay beforeher; her escape was made. Not a soul was up, and forgetting that sheshould economize her strength she ran gladly along, when suddenly anobject arrested her eyes and riveted her to the spot. There, at thestile, facing the field, the path through which issued on to thehighroad, stood a figure. The face was turned away, but Meg recognizedthat straight back, that dark dress with austere folds, that severestraw bonnet. It was Miss Grantley.
Was it some waking nightmare, an illusion of frightened fancy? Megremembered the furtive click of the door. Could her escape have beendiscovered, and the mistress be lying in wait for her? With desperateresolve, after a moment, Meg determined to chance it. She would creepbeside the hedge that led round the stile, and once on the other sideshe would trust to fortune and to her heels to escape pursuit. She begansoftly to move; a spray of woodbine caught her skirt--she disentangledit with trembling fingers; a puddle barred the way; she prepared to leapover it, watching that figure with terror. Something in its stillness,its stiffness, and its bent head frightened her. She thought she wouldcall out and speak to it. As she hesitated the figure turned round, andMeg saw, not Miss Grantley, but a stranger whom she had seen at churchand admired for her young and peaceful countenance. The lady was holdingcarefully something lying in her hollowed hand. Perceiving Meg shebeckoned. The coil of fear about Meg's heart loosened, and she breathedagain.
"Look at this poor chick!" said the stranger. "It has dropped from thenest. See how the mother is hovering round. Poor mother, we will nothurt your little one. God takes care of the fallen nestlings."
"Shall I put it back into the nest?" said Meg impulsively, feelinggenerous under the impression of that great relief.
"Can you climb?" said the stranger.
For answer Meg deposited her parcel and climbed up into the tree, thenstretching out her hand she took the little bird tenderly, and in amoment she had softly dropped it back into the nest.
"That was a good action," said the lady, as she came down again, lookingkindly at her. "I thought I was the only one out of doors--it is not yetfive o'clock; but you have taken the conceit out of me. This is holidaytime. Is that the way you take your holidays, by going out to walk atsunrise?"
Meg nodded. She was eager to dismiss the stranger; but still the ladydallied, looking kindly at her.
"There is a little nosegay; I picked it as I went out. I give it to you.Good-by!"
She took some flowers from her belt.
"Good-by," said Meg, with cordiality.
The stranger nodded again, and turning round walked away with swift andeven steps.
Meg loitered a moment watching her, then she clambered over the stileand was off.
She sped along until she reached the highroad. She turned Londonward,not slackening her pace. Not a living soul was within sight or hearing.She had the road to herself. The sun was behind her. Her shadowstretched thin and long before her. It looked like her own ghostgliding in front of her and leading her on. Meg did not look about her,but she was conscious of a universal shining around her, of jocundshadows about her feet, of birds twittering, and delicate perfumesstirring through the breeze that blew so pure and fresh that it seemedto come from heaven's gate. She ran until she could run no more, thenskirting the fields she walked quickly along. She thought it was anothergood omen that the day of her flight should be so brave and gladsome.Was nature rejoicing with her because she was hurrying to the placewhere she would hear news of the only friend she had in the world?
The hedges sparkled with dew; every bush and brake was hung with sheenyfragments of hoary silver that turned to gold in the sunlight. For herevery blade of grass and little flower glistened with a limpid coronal.A thrush sang aloft in a tree; Meg thought it sang for her. After awhileshe met a few laborers, but they took no notice of her. Their eyes werefixed on the ground.
As Meg walked along the assurance that a letter was awaiting her grew inintensity. She had heard that by steady walking London could be reachedin six hours, seven at most. It was not five o'clock when she started.She would be in London by noon. She saw herself already entering thebig city, asking her way to Queen Street; she would make straight fornum
ber 22 and ring the bell. Perhaps a strange servant would answer it;perhaps it would be Mrs. Browne herself. What a surprise, whatexclamations, if it were the landlady who answered the door! But shewould not reply to any questions until she had got her letter. "Whatletter?" "The letter that came for me with a foreign stamp," she wouldanswer. "Ah, yes! it had come. How had she known it had come? There itwas;" and she would take it to her attic, and sitting by the window shewould read and read it till she knew every word of it by heart.
Meg passed a village. The people were astir in the streets, the shopswere open. Everything sparkled in the sunshine and cast a blue shadow. Ababy was crawling on all-fours, its little blue shadow by its side. Awoman in the doorway with bare arms akimbo was chatting to a friend.Some geese were waddling down, moving spots of incomparable whiteness. Acart full of hay was standing in the glare of that morning sun. Ared-armed girl was milking a patient cow, and there came the pleasantsound of the milk as it rushed into the pail. It was half-past eight bythe church clock, the face of which was a blob of brightness. MissGrantley and the servants had discovered her flight by this time.Perhaps they guessed that she was going toward London; perhaps thatstrange lady would tell! Meg at this thought left the road for thefields, and walked on the other side of the hedge. She tried to walkquicker to avoid pursuit; but all at once she began to feel as if shecould not take another step. She was so tired. She was weak also fromhunger. She must sit down and eat.
She had entered a meadow bordered at the further end by a stream. Shecrossed the grassy stretch, took off her shoes and stockings, and wadedankle-deep into the water. On the other side a little wood cast itsshade. She would sit and take her pleasant rest there. The touch of thecool running water was delightful to her burning feet. She knelt on theopposite bank and bathed her hands and face. Then she sat down under atree. It was delicious to rest; it was enough for a moment to feel howtired she was, to lean back and enjoy the support of that great trunk,and the shade of those leafy branches. No queen ever sat on a thronemore restful, nor under a more dainty canopy. She took out the bread andbutter--she would not touch the cake yet--and began to eat. She ateslowly. Her repast was a banquet. It tasted of all the penetratingsweet perfumes about her; of the honey-laden breeze, of the fruitysunshine.
When it was over Meg thought it would be pleasant to lie down and sleep.Then she rebuked herself. She had no time for sleep, she must get on toLondon. She had no time to waste; still she dallied. Nature had spread acouch of dried aromatic leaves for her, perfumed with sweet smallflowers, guarded by a green barrier of bushes, shaded with a curtain ofleaves. The soothing stillness of nature crooned to her a wordlesslullaby. Meg stretched herself under the tree, drowsiness overcame her.She thought of the little bird that had fallen from its nest. Was shelike that little bird which had dropped from its home of twigs? But shesaid to herself, "I put it back there."
Meg had a dream. The black slug had grown to an immense size, with itshorns out. Its face seemed to grow like Miss Grantley's. Then it seemedto her that hostile inimical presences were around her, muttering. Shewoke; where was she? Who were around her? Brown eyes gazed down upon herfrom every side, warm breathings passed across her face, wide pinknostrils inquisitively moved up and down.
A forest of light-tipped horns surrounded her.
Meg started up. At the sudden movement the creatures jerked backwardand took flight. She heard the clatter of hoofs; then pausing andhuddling together, they turned and looked at her from a distance. Meggazed back at them. She laughed; these woodland gossips wereheifers--five heifers. She called to them, but they would not come. Whenshe got up to approach them they scampered off.
Meg's Friend: A Story for Girls Page 11