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Page 94
At last they came in sight of a tumbled-down cottage on the edge of
what had once been a clearing, but which was now overgrown with weeds
and brushwood. As they came up, Margaret's strength gave out, and
suddenly she sank down on her knees.
"All in, are you?" he said, not unkindly, and, stooping, he picked her
up bodily. She tried to resist, but could not, and he took her into
the cottage and placed her on a couch.
"I'll get you a nurse," he said, noting her extreme paleness. "You
need one."
"A--a woman?"
"Yes."
"Thank you," she murmured, and then closed her eyes, for she was too
far gone to say more, or to make a move.
He was as good as his word, and when she roused up once more an old
woman was at Margaret's side. She had administered some sort of
drug--what, the girl did not know--and it had put her into a sound
sleep.
When Margaret looked around again, she was surprised to see that it was
morning. She tried to think, but her mind was almost a blank. Outside
of the broken window a wild bird was singing gayly. She looked around.
The old woman was not in sight.
She had been put to bed, and sat there, trying to think for several
minutes. Then she gave a low call, and the old woman appeared in the
doorway.
"Come awake, have ye, miss?" said she.
"Where am I?" asked Margaret feebly.
"You're safe enough, never fear."
Margaret said no more and the woman went about some little work.
Presently the girl arose and dressed herself. She felt much stronger
than when at the home of Martha Sampson, in spite of what she had
experienced in running away. She sank down in a rocking chair, to
think matters over.
How far was she from Sidham? She knew she must have come a long
distance, but could not tell if it was five miles or fifty. She looked
out of the window, but the scenery was strange to her.
As she sat there she reviewed what had passed, her mind becoming
clearer as she thought. She remembered the scene at the inquest, and
remembered how she had fainted, and how Raymond had supported her and
taken her to the nurse's house. Then she remembered how the coroner's
jury had accused her of the terrible crime, and she gave a deep shudder.
"Poor, dear father," she murmured. "Who could have been so wicked as
to take your life?"
An hour went by, and she prepared to leave the cottage, when a shadow
fell across the window, and Matlock Styles appeared. He spoke a few
low words to the old woman, and the latter walked away.
As the man entered the room, Margaret arose and faced him. The
Englishman was well dressed, and newly shaven, and wore a rosebud in
his buttonhole. Evidently, he had spent some time over his toilet in
honor of the occasion.
"I'm glad to see you up and looking so well," he said pleasantly. "I
was afraid your running away would hurt you."
"I--I must thank you for what you have done for me, Mr. Styles," she
answered.
"Oh, that's all right, Miss Margaret. I'd do as much for you any day.
I think it's a bloomin' shame the way you have been treated."
"Well, I suppose it cannot be helped. But I must be getting back soon.
You will show me the road?"
"Don't be in a hurry to go. You're not strong enough to go.
Besides--" the Englishman paused impressively. "What's the use of
going back? Don't you know things look beastly black for you?"
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