reason of her going to America.

"Us married ladies have much to put up with. But cheer up, dearie. I
guess you'll have gotten over it by to-morrow morning."

When she was gone I sat down before the fire. I did not cry. I felt as
if I had reached a depth of suffering that was a thousand fathoms too
deep for tears. I do not think I wept again for many months afterwards,
and then it was a great joy, not a great grief, that brought me a burst
of blessed tears.

But I could hear my dear good Price crying behind me, and when I said:

"Now you see for yourself that I cannot remain in this house any
longer," she answered, in a low voice:

"Yes, my lady."

"I must go at once--to-night if possible."

"You shall. Leave everything to me, my lady."

SEVENTY-SEVENTH CHAPTER

The bell rang, but of course I did not go down to dinner.

As soon as Price had gone off to make the necessary arrangements I
turned the key in the lock of my door, removed my evening gown, and
began to dress for my flight.

My brain was numb, but I did my best to confront the new situation that
was before me.

Hitherto I had been occupied with the problem of whether I should or
should not leave my husband's house; now I had to settle the question of
where I was to go to.

I dared not think of home, for (Nessy MacLeod and Aunt Bridget apart)
the house of my father was the last place I could fly to at a moment
when I was making dust and ashes of his lifelong expectations.

Neither dared I think of Sunny Lodge, although I remembered, with a tug
of tenderness, Christian Ann's last message about Mary O'Neill's little
room that was always waiting for me--for I thought of how I had broken
my pledge to her.

The only place I could think of was that which Martin had mentioned when
he wished to carry me away--London. In the mighty world of London I
might hide myself from observation and wait until Martin returned from
his expedition.

"Yes, yes, London," I told myself in my breathless excitement, little
knowing what London meant.

I began to select the clothes I was to carry with me and to wear on my
journey. They must be plain, for I had to escape from a house in which
unfriendly eyes would be watching me. They must be durable, for during
my time of waiting I expected to be poor.

I hunted out some of the quaker-like costumes which had been made for me
before my marriage; and when I had put them on I saw that they made a
certain deduction