"Naught else--naught else.
'Twas a trick--a trick of Fate to ruin me for my punishment." When she had gone forth it had been with no hope in her breast that her wit might devise a way to free herself from the thing which so beset her, for she had no weak fancies that there dwelt in this base soul any germ of honour which might lead it to relenting.

As she had sat in her dark room at night, crouched upon the floor, and clenching her hands, as the mad thoughts went whirling through her brain, she had stared her Fate in the face and known all its awfulness.

Before her lay the rapture of a great, sweet, honourable passion, a high and noble life lived in such bliss as rarely fell to lot of woman--on this one man she knew that she could lavish all the splendour of her nature, and make his life a heaven, as hers would be.

Behind her lay the mad, uncared-for years, and one black memory blighting all to come, though 'twould have been but a black memory with no power to blight if the heaven of love had not so opened to her and with its light cast all else into shadow.
"If 'twere not love," she cried--"if 'twere but ambition, I could defy it to the last; but 'tis love--love--love, and it will kill me to forego it." Even as she moaned the words she heard hoof beats near her, and a horseman leaped the hedge and was at her side.

She set her teeth, and turning, stared into John Oxon's face.
"Did you think I would not follow you ?" he asked.
"No," she answered.
"I have followed you at a distance hitherto," he said; "now I shall follow close." She did not speak, but galloped on.
"Think you you can outride me ?" he said grimly, quickening his steed's pace.