"No, no," she returned, her breath still laboring, "wait--wait
till they are past." And so, hand in hand, we stood there in the
shadow, screened very effectively from the lane by the thick
hedge, while the rush of our pursuers' feet drew nearer and
nearer; until we could hear a voice that panted out curses upon
the dark lane, ourselves, and everything concerned; at sound of
which my companion seemed to fall into a shivering fit, her clasp
tightened upon my hand, and she drew closer to me. Thus we
remained until voices and footsteps had grown faint with
distance, but, even then, I could feel that she was trembling
still. Suddenly she drew her fingers from mine, and covered her
face with her hands.
"Oh, that man!" she exclaimed, in a whisper, "I didn't quite
realize till now--what I have escaped. Oh, that beast!"
"Sir Harry Mortimer?" said I.
"You know him?" she cried.
"Heaven forbid!" I answered, "but I have seen him once before at
'The Chequers' inn at Tonbridge, and I never forget names or
faces--especially such as his."
"How I hate him!" she whispered.
"An unpleasant animal, to be sure," said I. "But come, it were
wiser to get as far from here as possible, they will doubtless be
returning soon."
So we started off again, running in the shadow of the hedge. We
had thus doubled back upon our pursuers, and, leaving the tavern
upon our left, soon gained the kindly shadow of those woods
through which I had passed in the early evening.
Borne to us upon the gentle wind was the haunting perfume of
hidden flowers, and the sinking moon sent long shafts of silvery
light to pierce the leafy gloom, and make the shadows more
mysterious.
The path we followed was very narrow, so that sometimes my
companion's knee touched mine, or her long, silken hair brushed
my brow or cheek, as I stooped to lift some trailing branch that
barred her way, or open a path for her through the leaves.
So we journeyed on through the mysteries of the woods together.