"
What should she do? Through the long, burning hours, through the long,
dreary nights, she asked herself that question--What should she do?
Her husband, alarmed at her white face and altered manner, talked of
summoning a physician to her. Her friends advised change of air, but
there was no human help for her.
Then, when mind and brain alike were overdone, when the strained nerves
gave way, when the fever of fear and suspense rose to its height, she
thought of flight. That was the only recourse left to her--flight! Then
she would escape the terrors of death and the horror of life. Flight was
the only resource left to her. The poor, bewildered mind, groping so
darkly, fixed on this one idea. She would not kill herself. That would
deprive her of all hope in another world. She dare not live her present
life, but flight would save her.
People would only think she was mad for running away, and surely when
Allan Lyster saw what he had done he would relent and persecute her no
more.
She was not herself when she stole so quietly from home and went
disguised to the station. She was half delirious with fear and dread;
her brain whirled, her heart beat, every moment she dreaded to see Allan
Lyster pursuing her. Her only idea was to get away from him, safe in
some refuge where he could not find her.
She little dreamed that in the hurry of her flight she had dropped Allan
Lyster's letter--the letter in which he threatened to tell her
husband--the letter which drove her mad, and sent her from home.
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