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Mrs. Oliphant

The House on the Moor, v. 3/3

CHAPTER I

IT was still early, when Susan, somewhat flushed by her rapid walk, and somewhat tired to the boot – for, elastic and strong, and accustomed to exercise as she was, six miles of solitary road, with a bundle to carry, not to say the burden of her desolate circumstances, and the natural timidity which, after a while, replaced her flush of indignant vehemence, was rather an exhausting morning promenade for a girl of nineteen – arrived at Tillington. And, in spite of Peggy’s injunctions and her own sense of necessity, it was only with lingering steps, and a painful reluctance, that she at last summoned courage sufficient to present herself at John Gilsland’s open door. Once there, however, matters became easy enough, smoothed by Mrs. Gilsland’s eager and ready welcome, and by an incident of which Susan had not thought.

“Eyeh, miss! but he’s gone no moor nor half an hour since,” cried Mrs. Gilsland. “Bless us awl! to have a young lady like you come as far, and o’er late, when awl’s done! But he was in grit haste, was Mr. Horry. Come into the fire, and rest yoursel’, for the like of them long walks at this hour in the morning, they’re no for leddy-birds like you. You’ll have heard from the Cornel, miss? And how is he? – the dear gentleman! But you’re not agoing to stand there, with that white face. Dear heart, sit down, and I’ll get a cup of tea in a twinkling. She’s clean done with tiredness, and the disappointment. John! if ye had the spirit of a mouse, ye’d goo after Mr. Horry, and bring him back to satisfy miss – there, do ye hear?”

“No, Mrs.

Gilsland,” said Susan, eagerly; “but, please, if John will get the gig, and drive me to the railroad, and perhaps we might overtake my brother. I’m – I’m – I’m – going to see my uncle to Scotland; and Horace would – might, perhaps – see me away. ”

“But, dear miss, your boxes?” cried Mrs. Gilsland, gazing at the young pedestrian with astonishment, and throwing her wonder into the first tangible thing that occurred to her, as she took the bundle out of Susan’s hand.

“They are to come after me,” said Susan, with a blush of shame; “but we had better make haste, and overtake Horace. He does not know I am going; but I think – thought – he would, perhaps, go with me to the railroad,” added Susan, availing herself of that unexpected assistance, to cover her strange departure alone from Marchmain, yet blushing at the falsehood of the inference. “Oh, will you please to tell John? I have had breakfast. I could not take any tea, thank you, Mrs. Gilsland, but I want so much to overtake my brother. ”

This was so reasonable and comprehensible, that the good woman left her guest immediately, to startle her husband into unusual speed, and urge him on to the harnessing of the horse, and preparation of the gig, with such wonderful expedition, that John, who, contrary to his usual habits, had no time whatever to think about it, was perfectly flushed with the exertion, and scarcely knew what he was doing. Susan, grateful to be left unquestioned, sat alone in the meantime in the little parlour, feeling half glad, and half guilty, in the strange relief afforded her by Horace’s recent presence here, and the excuse it served to give for her own appearance. It saved her entirely from the halting and timid explanation of a sudden visit to her uncle, and there being nobody at Marchmain who could be spared to accompany her, with which she had been trying to fortify herself, as she approached Tillington; and the momentary rest and quietness was a relief to her tired and excited frame. Then the very room recalled to poor Susan recollections which warmed and strengthened her heart. Uncle Edward! – the only person in the world, save Peggy, who had ever looked with tender, indulgent eyes of affection upon her youth; and it was to him and his house she was going! She sat there motionless, in the dingy little inn parlour, too much fatigued and strained in mind even to unclasp her hands, but unconsciously recovering her courage, and feeling the light and flicker of a happiness to come about her heart.