“Take it off,” he repeated again, standing over her.
She hesitated and then obeyed.
It looked as though the action had decided her fate. He took the ring from her and laid it on the table.
“Saunders ’ll find it there safe,” he observed, smiling, “and it’s all he’ll find.”
He drew her outside to the high doorstep, and, taking the cloak from the strap on the saddle, he put it round her. She was as passive as if the loss of her ring had mesmerised her. She felt destiny slipping from her hold and the relief from its weight was well-nigh grateful to her in her bewilderment. But she was being forced to do a terrible thing, and she could not even tell whether or no it was against her will. If only Mrs. Job would come back and either bid her go with this man or save her from him!
It was not Heber’s mountain pony that waited outside, but a big, dark horse, seeming colossal to Catherine in the uncertainty of the night. While she stood on the step he leaped into the saddle.
“Now,” said he, “put your foot on mine and come.”
She drew back, a last protest on her lips; as it left them he leaned down and gripped her by both arms.