A Heart's Bitterness — page 167: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

* nel § ve» ba *. 24 ee 4 i a 4 enw a po - r s ¥ a al witty . Po ‘ . + aa ya ee PASS ed 2 ts el rd tw ee, P a ¢ he rt Boe" f ‘ . ve. oat “ - NR 7 : A . ae 9 " _ ~~ A HEART'S BITTERNESS. | 159 You have only to shut the door when you go out; no one ever meddles here—we’ve naught to lose.” | Then the tea was brought to Violet’s bed, almost as nicely as Kate could have done it, and surrounded by a Arcadian simplicity, Violet fell into a troubled, aching sleep. | Her slumber: deepened toward morning. When she finally woke the sun was high, and Mary Miller was gone. Violet sat up in bed and looked about. Evidently she must leave this quiet shelter, but where should she go, what should she do? The sleep, the silence, gave her strength for reflection. She would go to the nearest vil- lage or town, seek board or lodgings, and as soon as she could secure a room to sit down in, and material for writing, she would write at once for Kate—good, kind, sensible Kate, her life-long friend—Kate would tell her what to do, and Kate would take care of her. She rose and dressed. Mary Miller had left a glass of rich new milk and a slice of brown bread on the table for her. Violet drank the milk, and then pinned a sovereign in- side Mary’s pillow-case, where no stray caller would be likely to find it, but Mary surely would. She looked with filling eyes at the tidy, humble home, where she had found such Christian treatment; she remembered how it was written, ‘‘I was a stranger and ye took me in,” and she felt that the ‘‘ blessing of one ready to perish” would come home to the gracious factory maiden. ‘J will help her,” she said, ‘‘as soon as I am once more safe and settled; I will send a hundred pounds to Mary, and she shall marry the man she loves.” The thought of making another happy cheered Violet. She went out once more with better courage. The morning was fresh, dewy, lovely; the day promised — heat, but now all was fair and sparkling; a dainty breeze stirred Violet’s stray rings of hair, and dried the tears on her cheeks. For a little while hope sustained her in her way, hope of shelter, of soon summoning Kate, who could ‘‘ take care of her”—and oh, how she needed care, how ill and — worn she felt! The sun climbed apace to the zenith, the breeze died away; Violet’s tottering limbs and blistered feet could hardly carry her, She had not gone so very far, though (e(@) Eomicbooks