leave Monfort Hall, and
even forsake Mabel, until I could return and legally claim both. At my
majority, Mabel would be of age to select between her guardians, by that
time, according to law, and--we should see! As for poor Morton, I would
write to him and claim his prayers alone. Age like his is so
irresponsible. I dared not trust him farther!

It was all very brief and bitter!

As yet I had digested no plan of action. I would go westward, I thought,
but just as far away as my money would carry me from these fiends,
trusting to God for the rest, just as a boat puts off from a blazing
ship.

Of course, I must adopt another name--what should it be? I should need
clothing; and _how_ secure and convey away my trunk unseen by Evelyn? My
diamonds must be secreted or disposed of--how should this be done? Could
I trust Mrs. Austin--Mabel?

No, the suggestion was discarded at once as unworthy of consideration.

One was too old, too self-indulged, too selfish; and in age people
usually worship expediency alone. The other far too young not to be
necessarily indiscreet and impulsive. To have been otherwise at her
tender age would have been simply monstrous!

No, I must forego even the sweet satisfaction of saying farewell to
Mabel; we must part perhaps forever, as we might meet again within an
hour, and all her distress and anxiety must pass unshared and unheeded.

There was no one else I cared very much about leaving, but the love of
locality was a strong feature in my disposition, and every room in my
father's house was dear to me, as was every book in his study, and every
plant in our deep-green, shadowed garden.

The very streets were sacred in my sight, that I had trodden from
childhood, but my liberty was more precious to my heart than scenes of
old associations, and to gain one the other must be sacrificed. There
was no hesitating now: I was on the tread-mill of fate, and must
proceed, or fall and be crushed beneath.

And here again I repeat, what I have said so recently: "On what slight
pivots our destiny often turns!--through what small channels Providence
works its wondrous ways!"

A pair of shoes had been sent home for me that day, which still lay on
the table, wrapped and corded. In truth, they came very opportunely; "I
shall want these soon," I thought, as I examined the strong and elastic
bootees, which had been made for me in view of my morning walks, a part
of dear Dr. Pemberton's regimen, which I stre