What
did the world hold for her that she should thrust such a man out of her
life? Which way was she to choose--that which led Lack in her uncle's
world, with its Rosmores, its Branksomes, its Marriotts, its Mistress
Dearmers, and its shams of love which was vice, and of life which was
moral death; or that which led to quiet obscurity with the man she
loved, a sinner, but repentant, in whose worship she could trust, and
whose touch thrilled her very soul? Had she not almost promised
already--to take her way with him?
The second day of her waiting had ended, darkness had come; to-morrow
night she would go. At about this hour galloping horses would be
hurrying her away from Dorchester. Her thoughts were full of to-morrow,
when the key turned quietly in the lock and Watson entered.
"Good news, madam. I only heard it an hour ago, and was never more
pleased in my life."
"What news?"
"That you are to leave Dorchester, and with Mr. Crosby. Craving your
pardon, madam, I know something of your reason for coming to the West;
and, for all I'm so rough a fellow, I'm fond o' lovers."
"Thank you," said Barbara, for the man was evidently pleased.
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