Kneeling down by her bed, she prayed for strength and guidance. There was no friend but God upon whom she could throw herself in her sorrow and fear. She could no longer remain in the house, for her life was in peril. Her father had threatened to kill her in his insane passion. It would be tempting him and exposing herself to stay another hour; it would be cruel to both of them. Packing up her scanty wardrobe in a bundle, and taking the few valuables she possessed, including a small sum of money, she crept softly down the stairs. She had decided to leave her wretched home, never more to return while her father lived. In the entry below she met Mrs. Kingman, who was hardly less terrified than the daughter. The poor woman was suffering almost as much as Mary--not as much, for her nature was less gentle and sensitive. Without a word which might be overheard by the drunken father, they left the house, and walked towards the landing-place. “Where are you going to, Mary?” sobbed Mrs. Kingman, glancing uneasily at the house in the gloom of the night. “I hardly know, mother; I cannot spend another night in that house.” “I don’t blame you, child; it ain’t in natur to stand sich treatment. If it wan’t for the children, I’d go too.” “I wish Ross were at home, mother; he could tell me what to do,” moaned poor Mary, gazing vacantly at the stars, which looked so bright and happy, while she was so sad and miserable. “I wish he was. I don’t think I can stand it much longer; but the Lord knows, what can I do?” “I will tell you, mother. You must have him taken care of. It is terrible, I know, and I have always struggled against the thought.” “What do you mean, Mary?” “You must have him arrested.” “Arrested! My gracious! It would be as much as my life is worth. I should no more dare to do it than I should to cut my head off.” “I’m sorry to leave you, mother; and I wouldn’t do so, if I didn’t think it was best for you as well as for me. He is terribly incensed against me.” “I know he is, child. Perhaps he will behave better if you go off for a while.” “I hope he will. I am willing to suffer if it will do any good; but my presence here only makes him worse. I must go.” “But where are you goin, child?” “I don’t know, mother. I suppose I shall find a place.” “Can’t you find some place to stop over to the Port?” “Perhaps I can.” “Well, God bless you, child. You’ve allus been a good gal, and deserve to be well used.” Mrs. Kingman, still weeping, returned to the house to pass the rest of the night in terror and misery, as she had passed many a night before.