O, sister, give me another chance.
I will put the wrong all right yet."
By this time she had gathered her faculties together.
"Yes, I'll help you, dear. Lie down and rest. I will go to Martha.
I can trust the Cravens. Is it Liverpool you want to reach?"
"No, no; any port but Liverpool."
"Will Whitehaven do?"
"The best of all places."
"I will return as quickly as possible."
"But it is raining heavily, and the park is so gloomy. Let me go with
you."
"I must go alone."
He looked at her with sorrow and tenderness and bitter shame. Her face
showed white as marble against the dead black of her dress, but there
was also in it a strength and purpose to which he fully trusted.
"I must ring for my maid and dismiss her, and you had better go to
your own old room, Antony;" and as he softly trod the corridor, lined
with the faces of his forefathers, Elizabeth followed him in thought,
and shuddered at the mental picture she evoked.
Then she rang her bell, gave some trivial order, and excused her maid
for the night. A quarter of an hour afterward she was hastening through
the park, scarcely heeding the soaking rain, or the chill, or darkness,
in the pre-occupation of her thoughts. She had flung a thick shawl
over her head and shoulders, a fashion so universal as to greatly
lessen her chance of being observed, and when she came to the park
gates she looked up and down for some circumstance to guide her further
steps.
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