I've taken care of myself, so I'm quite safe and getting on finely; but I'd get on better if my feet weren't tied in a sack because of the things you made me do--you _made_ me do it, you know you did." She challenged his self-conviction with fierce intensity.
"It was you made me go off and leave your aunt before you'd got any one else to take care of her; it was you who made me take her money because you'd give me none that was lawfully my own; it was you that made me run away in a way that wouldn't seem very nice if any one knew, and do things they wouldn't think very nice, and--and" (she was incoherent in her passion) "you _made_ me run out in the woods alone, till I could get a train, and I was so frightened of you coming, and finding me, and _telling_, that I had to give another name; and _now_, when I'm getting on in the world, I have to keep hiding all this at every turn because people wouldn't think it very pretty conduct.

They'd think it was queer and get up a grand talk.

So I've told lies and changed my name, and it's you that made me, Mr.Bates." He only took in a small part of the meaning of the words she poured upon him so quickly, but he could no longer be oblivious to her rage.

His joy in seeing her did not subside; he was panting for breath with the excitement of it, and his eyes gloated upon her; for his delight in her life and safety was something wholly apart from any thought of himself, from the pain her renewed anger must now add to the long-accustomed pain of his own contrition.
"But how," he whispered, wondering, "how did you get over the hills?
How?
--" "Just how and when I could.

'Twasn't much choice that you left me, Mr.
Bates.