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her at all—the idea of pursuit was all she had to fear. At half-past twelve she collected her ridiculously insufficient luggage, and, summoning all her courage, opened her window, which fortunately led on to the piazza. Although there was no need for her to go through the house, there was still the danger that someone might hear or see her. Every light step she took brought a fresh thrill of terror; her heart seemed beating entirely in her throat; but she did not hesitate, and stole safely past the kitchen and stables, where no one slept. The only danger now was from the dogs, whose kennels were near the back gate which she must pass through. But all the dogs were friends of hers, and at the first stir she spoke reassuringly to them. There was no disturbance—the gate closed softly behind her, and she was hurrying down the grassy lane with hammering heart but unfaltering footsteps. The moon had set, but the starlight was enough to show her the way. She reached the main road after half an hour's walk. The stage was not due yet, so she continued to walk, knowing it must overtake her; her one thought was to put as much distance as possible between her and the house she had left, besides, it was too cold to stand still for long. The stage seemed long in coming, but it arrived at last; and though she thought the driver looked curiously at her, at least there was no fear of recognition. The two other passengers, rolled in their rugs and sleepy, took no notice of her, and gave her the smallest possible amount of room. She demanded nothing and sat, upright and wakeful, until the railroad station was reached.

She took a ticket for Portland, because she knew of it vaguely as a big town, and there was no doubt in her mind about taking the Vancouver-bound train. She would certainly not go back to New York—they would naturally expect her to go there. Once settled in a corner of the carriage, she felt safe for the time being; her tired head