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Poynter, Eleanor Frances

"My Little Lady"

She gave
up her ticket mechanically, passed through the gate, and
followed the muddy road leading to the cottages. She was very
tired, she had never felt quite so tired before, and her knees
trembled as they had done that day when the fever came on at
the convent; she was so dizzy too, that she had to stop now
and then, to grasp the one fact of her being where she was and
not somewhere else altogether; her single idea was to go on
walking until--until when? That was a question she could not
have answered, only somewhere she must go, where she would be
out of the way of countess or nuns, or any other enemy who
might be lying in wait to pounce upon her. This was all she
thought about as she passed along the village street, which
was dull and deserted-looking enough on this wet, grey
afternoon, till the sight of a church with an open door,
suggested something quite different, and which was a positive
relief after that nightmare motion of walking perpetually with
failing limbs, and a sense of pursuit behind. She would go in
there, and sit down and rest for a little while.


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