But that was just the kind of action of
which, truthful as was her nature, poor Letty, both by
constitution and training, was incapable; human opposition,
superior anger, condemnation, she dared not encounter. She sank,
more than half fainting, upon the door-step.
The moment she came to herself, apprehension changed into active
dread, rushed into uncontrollable terror. She sprang to her feet,
and, the worst thing she could do, fled like the wind after Tom--
now, indeed, she imagined, her only refuge! She knew where he had
put up his horse, and knew he could hardly take any other way
than the foot-path to Testbridge. He could not be more than a few
yards ahead of her, she thought. Presently she heard him
whistling, she was sure, as he walked leisurely along, but she
could not see him. The way was mostly between hedges until it
reached the common: there she would catch sight of him, for,
notwithstanding the gauzy mist, the moon gave plenty of light. On
she went swiftly, still fancying at intervals she heard in front
of her his whistle, and even his step on the hard, frozen path.
In her eager anxiety to overtake him, she felt neither the
chilling air nor the fear of the night and the loneliness. Dismay
was behind her, and hope before her. On and on she ran. But when,
with now failing breath, she reached the common, and saw it lie
so bare and wide in the moonlight, with the little hut standing
on its edge, like a ghastly lodge to nowhere, with gaping black
holes for door and window, then, indeed, the horror of her
deserted condition and the terrors of the night began to crush
their way into her soul.
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