The stem of a bulrush shook, suggestive of hideous gambols at its roots....
The whole place looked so foul and evil that a wild desire to flee from it did actually, and as it were involuntarily, drag Leonore's nerveless feet a few yards from the edge—but there she halted, muttering to herself in broken, meaningless utterances. She thought she was goading herself back—back—back;—and she began to go back.
"Caught you up at last, Leo. What a walker you are! I followed you out, and guessed I should overtake you if I held on," continued the cheerful voice, as Paul tumbled down the bank, slipping and sliding, and steadying himself with his stick till he reached Leo's side. "A bit damp here though, isn't it?"
"Go away—go away, Paul." She tried to push him aside, he was between her and the pool.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to intrude; but, I say this is just the sort of thing to be very pleasant at the time, but——"
"Go—go!"
"But it will find out the weak spot afterwards, and then the aches and pains!"
"I shall have no aches and pains, and you—you needn't stay. I don't want you, I won't have you;" cried Leo, wildly. "Why did you come? Why did you follow me? Who gave you leave to spy upon me?"
"I took my own leave," said Paul, and dropped his cheery note, fixing his eyes steadily on hers. "You will come away—from here—with me;"—and she felt his hand close upon her arm.