There and Back | Page 8

the child, but for the dead mother in whose place
she left such a woman. She walked slowly back to the nursery, where
her charge was asleep, closed the door, sat down by the cot, and sat for
a while without moving. Then her countenance began to change, and
slowly went on changing, until at last, as through a mist of troubled
emotion, out upon the strong, rugged face broke, with strange
suggestion of a sunset, the glow of resolve and justified desire. A maid
more friendly than the rest brought her some tea, but Jane said nothing
of what had occurred. When the child awoke, she fed him, and played
with him a long time--till he was thoroughly tired, when she undressed
him, and laying him down, set about preparing his evening meal. No
one could have perceived in her any difference, except indeed it were a
subdued excitement in her glowing eyes. When it was ready, she went
to her box, took from it a small bottle, and poured a few dark-coloured
drops into the food.
"God forgive me! it's but this once!" she murmured.
The child seemed not quite to relish his supper, but did not refuse it,
and was presently asleep in her arms. She laid him down, took a book,
and began to read.

CHAPTER III
.
_THE FLIGHT._
She read until every sound had died in the house, every sound from
garret to cellar, except the ticking of clock, and the tinkling cracks of

sinking fires and cooling grates. In the regnant silence she rose, laid
aside her book, softly opened the door, and stepped as softly into the
narrow passage. A moment or two she listened, then stole on tiptoe to
the main corridor, and again listened. She went next to the head of the
great stair, and once more stood and listened. Then she crept down to
the drawing-room, saw that there was no light in the library,
billiard-room, or smoking-room, and with stealthy feet returned to the
nursery. There she closed the door she had left open, and took the child.
He lay in her arms like one dead. She removed everything he wore, and
dressed him in the garments which for the last fortnight she had been
making for him from clothes of her own. When she had done, he
looked like any cottager's child; there was nothing in his face to
contradict his attire. She regarded the result for a moment with a
triumph of satisfaction, laid him down, and proceeded to put away the
clothes he had worn.
Over the top of the door was a small cupboard in the wall, into which
she had never looked until the day before, when she opened it and
found it empty. She placed a table under it, and a chair on the table,
climbed up, laid in it everything she had taken off the child, locked the
door of it, put the key in her pocket, and got down. Then she took the
cloak and hood he had hitherto worn out of doors, laid them down
beside the wardrobe, and lifting the end of it with a strength worthy of
the blacksmith's daughter, pushed them with her foot into the hollow
between the bottom of the wardrobe and the floor of the room. This
done, she looked at the timepiece on the mantelshelf, saw it was one
o'clock, and sat down to recover her breath. But the next moment she
was on her knees, sobbing. By and by she rose, wiped the hot tears
from her eyes, and went carefully about the room, gathering up this and
that, and putting it into her box. Then having locked it, she stuffed a
number of small pieces of paper into the lock, using a crochet-needle to
get them well among the wards. Lastly, she put on a dress she had
never worn at Mortgrange, took up the child, who was still in a dead
sleep, wrapped him in an old shawl, and stole with him from the room.
Like those of a thief--or murderess rather, her scared eyes looked on
this side and that, as she crept to a narrow stair that led to the kitchen.
She knew every turn and every opening in this part of the house: for
weeks she had been occupied, both intellect and imagination, with the

daring idea she was now carrying into effect.
She reached the one door that might yield a safe exit, unlocked it
noiselessly, and stood in a little paved yard with a pump, whence
another door in an ivy-covered wall opened into the kitchen-garden.
The moon shone large and clear, but the shadow of the house protected
her. It was the month of August, warm and still. If only it had been dark!