Adela Cathcart, vol 3 | Page 3

the man snoring, and the woman breathing loud.
Then I felt my way to the door, but, to my horror, found the man lying
across it on the floor, so that I could not open it. Then I believe I cried
for the first time. I was nearly frozen to death, and there was all the
long night to bear yet. How I got through it, I cannot tell. It did go
away. Perhaps God destroyed some of it for me. But when the light
began to come through the window, and show me all the filth of the
place, the man and the woman lying on the floor, the woman with her
head cut and covered with blood, I began to feel that the darkness had
been my friend. I felt this yet more when I saw the state of my own
dress, which I had forgotten in the dark. I felt as if I had done some
shameful thing, and wanted to follow the darkness, and hide in the
skirts of it. It was an old gown of some woollen stuff, but it was
impossible to tell what, it was so dirty and worn. I was ashamed that
even those drunken creatures should wake and see me in it. But the
light would come, and it came and came, until at last it waked them up,
and the first words were so dreadful! They quarrelled and swore at each
other and at me, until I almost thought there couldn't be a God who
would let that go on so, and never stop it. But I suppose He wants them
to stop, and doesn't care to stop it Himself, for He could easily do that
of course, if He liked.'
"'Just right, my darling!' said Uncle Peter with emotion.
"Chrissy saw that my uncle was too much excited by her story although
he tried not to show it, and with a wisdom which I have since learned to
appreciate, cut it short.
"'They did not treat me cruelly, though, the worst was, that they gave
me next to nothing to eat. Perhaps they wanted to make me thin and
wretched looking, and I believe they succeeded.--Charlie, you'll turn
over the cream, if you don't sit still.--Three days passed this way. I have
thought all over it, and I think they were a little puzzled how to get rid
of me. They had no doubt watched me for a long time, and now they
had got my clothes, they were afraid.--At last one night they took me
out. My aunt, if aunt she is, was respectably dressed--that is,
comparatively, and the man had a great-coat on, which covered his

dirty clothes. They helped me into a cart which stood at the door, and
drove off. I resolved to watch the way we went. But we took so many
turnings through narrow streets before we came out in a main road, that
I soon found it was all one mass of confusion in my head; and it was
too dark to read any of the names of the streets, for the man kept as
much in the middle of the road as possible. We drove some miles, I
should think, before we stopped at the gate of a small house with a big
porch, which stood alone. My aunt got out and went up to the house,
and was admitted. After a few minutes, she returned, and making me
get out, she led me up to the house, where an elderly lady stood,
holding the door half open. When we reached it, my aunt gave me a
sort of shove in, saying to the lady, 'There she is.' Then she said to me:
'Come now be a good girl and don't tell lies,' and turning hastily, ran
down the steps, and got into the cart at the gate, which drove off at once
the way we had come. The lady looked at me from head to foot sternly
but kindly too, I thought, and so glad was I to find myself clear of those
dreadful creatures, that I burst out crying. She instantly began to read
me a lecture on the privilege of being placed with Christian people,
who would instruct me how my soul might be saved, and teach me to
lead an honest and virtuous life. I tried to say that I had led an honest
life. But as often as I opened my mouth to tell anything about myself or
my uncle, or, indeed, to say anything at all, I was stopped by her
saying--'Now don't tell lies. Whatever you do, don't tell lies.' This shut
me up quite. I could not speak when I knew she would not believe me.
But I did not cry, I only felt