Both Mrs. Livingstone and Carrie refused to come, but at the first call Aunt Milly hastened to the room.  “Poor sheared lamb,” said she, gathering back the thick, clustering curls which shaded ’Lena’s marble face, “she’s innocent as the new-born baby.”

“Oh, if I could think so,” said grandma; but she could not, and when the soft brown eyes again unclosed, and eagerly sought hers, they read distrust and doubt, and motioning her grandmother away, ’Lena said she would rather be alone.

Many and bitter were the thoughts which crowded upon her as she lay there watching the daylight fade from the distant hills, and musing of the stern realities around her.  Gradually her thoughts assumed a definite purpose; she would go away from a place where she was never wanted, and where she now no longer wished to stay.  Mr. Everett had promised to be her friend, and to him she would go.  At different intervals her uncle and cousin had given her money to the amount of twenty dollars, which was still in her possession, and which she knew would take her far on her road.

With ’Lena to resolve was to do, and that night, when sure her grandmother was asleep, she arose and hurriedly made the needful preparations for her flight.  Unlike most aged people, Mrs. Nichols slept soundly, and ’Lena had no fears of waking her.  Very stealthily she moved around the room, placing in a satchel, which she could carry upon her arm, the few things she would need.  Then, sitting down by the table, she wrote: 

“DEAR GRANDMA:  When you read this I shall be gone, for I cannot longer stay where all look upon me as a wretched, guilty thing.  I am innocent, grandma, as innocent as my angel mother when they dared to slander her, but you do not believe it, and that is the hardest of all.  I could have borne the rest, but when you, too, doubted me, it broke my heart, and now I am going away.  Nobody will care—­nobody will miss me but you.

“And now dear, dear grandma, it costs me more pain to write than it will you to read

    “’LENA’S LAST GOOD-BYE”

All was at length ready, and then bending gently over the wrinkled face so calmly sleeping, ’Lena gazed through blinding tears upon each lineament, striving to imprint it upon her heart’s memory, and wondering if they would ever meet again.  The hand which had so often rested caressingly upon her young head, was lying outside the counterpane, and with one burning kiss upon it she turned away, first placing the lamp by the window, where its light, shining upon her from afar, would be the last thing she could see of the home she was leaving.