Nobody remembered to
have seen her pass, hers had been such an early flitting; and when
somebody thought of her having gone away by train, he was laughed at
for forgetting that the earliest morning train from South Byfleet, the
nearest station, did not start until long after eight o'clock; and if
Betsey had designed to be one of the passengers, she would have
started along the road at seven, and been seen and known of all women.
There was not a kitchen in that part of Byfleet that did not have
windows toward the road. Conversation rarely left the level of the
neighborhood gossip: to see Betsey Lane, in her best clothes, at that
hour in the morning, would have been the signal for much exercise of
imagination; but as day after day went by without news, the curiosity
of those who knew her best turned slowly into fear, and at last Peggy
Bond again gave utterance to the belief that Betsey had either gone
out in the early morning and put an end to her life, or that she had
gone to the Centennial. Some of the people at table were moved to loud
laughter,--it was at supper-time on a Sunday night,--but others
listened with great interest.
"She never'd put on her good clothes to drownd herself," said the
widow. "She might have thought 'twas good as takin' 'em with her,
though. Old folks has wandered off an' got lost in the woods afore
now."
Mrs. Dow and Peggy resented this impertinent remark, but deigned to
take no notice of the speaker. "She wouldn't have wore her best
clothes to the Centennial, would she?" mildly inquired Peggy, bobbing
her head toward the ceiling.
Pages:
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472