With a gasp she sprang up, and the next moment was running wildly away, away, down the forest path, heedless of the rough ground, of the stones and roots that tore her bare feet, running like a mad creature, with sobbing breath, and limbs that staggered, compel them though she might.
She did not run far. Her flight ended as suddenly as it had begun in a violent, headlong fall. A long streamer of bramble had tripped her unaccustomed feet. She was conscious for an instant of the horrible pain of it as she was flung forward on her hands.
And then came the touch that she dreaded, the sinewy hands lifting her, the sinister face looking into hers.
"You should never run away from destiny," said Dinghra softly. "Destiny can always catch you up."
She gasped and shuddered. She was shaking all over, too crushed, too shattered, for speech.
He set her on her feet.
"We will go back," he said, keeping his arm about her. "You have had a pleasant sleep? I am sorry you awoke so soon."
But she stood still, her wild eyes searching the forest depths.
"Oh, let me go!" she cried out suddenly. "Oh, do let me go!"
His arm tightened, but still he smiled.