Then she noiselessly crept from the room, flitted down the
staircase and was at the hall door shooting back its heavy
bolts--fortunately always kept well greased--and lifting the massive
chain which stretched across the centre. Street doors were well guarded
and ground floor windows barred in those days, and not without reason.
The moon was still shining brightly and Lavinia drew her hood closer
over her face, though there was little need, for the fields were
deserted. She turned to the east, keeping in the shadow, slight as it
was, of the school garden wall. When the "Conduit Head" at the top of
Red Lion Street (the northern end now known as Lamb's Conduit Street)
was reached she paused and her heart went pit-a-pat. If Dorrimore should
not be there!
She stopped, overcome by sudden scruples. In a flash her life at the
school, its monotony and discipline, the irksomeness of regular work,
rose before her! She had been some months at Miss Pinwell's
establishment and her restless soul pined for a change. Though she
looked back to her vagabond life in the streets with a shudder, she
yearned for its freedom, but without its degradations.
The step she was about to take, so she persuaded herself, meant freedom,
but it also meant ingratitude towards Gay and the duchess. For the
latter's opinion she did not care much. The imperious manner of her
grace was not to her taste.
Pages:
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47