“Whatever my errand here this night,” said Mary, with a calm dignity, “it was meant to serve and not insult you. I know, as well as your bitterest words can tell me, that this is not my place; but I know, too, if from yielding to my selfish pride I had refused your old grandfather this last request, it had been many a year of bitter reproach to me.”
“Oh, you 'll break my heart, you will, you will!” cried Joan, bitterly. “You 'll turn the only one that's left against me, and I 'll be alone in the world.”
“Come with me this night, and whatever happen I 'll befriend you,” said Mary.
“And not desert me because I 'm what I am?”
“Oh, my blessings on you,--if the blessing of one like me is any good,” cried she, kissing Mary's hand fervently. “Oh, they that praised you said the truth; you have goodness enough in your heart to make up for us all! I 'll go with you to the world's end.”
“We'll pass Cro' Martin, and you shall have my horse--”
“No, no, Miss Mary, I 'll go on my feet; it best becomes me. I 'll go by Burnane--by the Gap--I know it well--too well!” added she, as the tears rushed to her eyes. As she was speaking, she took off the cap she wore and threw it from her; and then removing her dress, put on the coarse woollen gown of her daily wear. “Oh, God forgive me!” cried she, “if I curse the day that I ever wore better than this.”
Mary assisted her with her dress, fastening the hood of her cloak over her head, and preparing her, as best she might, for the severe storm she was to encounter; and it was plain to see that Joan accepted these little services without a thought of by whom they were rendered, so intensely occupied was her mind by the enterprise before her. A feverish haste to be away marked all she did. It was partly terror lest her escape might be prevented; partly a sense of distrust in herself, and that she might abandon her own resolution.
“Oh, tell me,” she cried, as the tears streamed from her eyes, and her lips quivered with agony,--“oh, tell me I'm doing right; tell me that God's blessing is going with me this night, or I can't do it.”
“And so it is, dear Joan,” said Mary; “be of good heart, and Heaven will support you. I 'm sure the trial is a sore one.”