face. His eyes were fixed and devilish.

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.

"Never again. I have had some trouble to find you, but you are mine now
for ever--or at least"--and the snarl of the beast was in his
voice--"for as long as I want you."

She resisted him, striving to escape that ever-tightening arm.

"No!" she cried in an agony. "No! No! No!"

His hold became a vice-like grip. Without a word he forced her back with
him along the way she had come. She limped as she went, and he noted it
with a terrible smile.

"It would have been better if you hadn't run away," he said.

"Oh, do let me go!" she begged again through her white lips. "Why do you
persecute me like this? I have never done you any harm."

"Except laugh at me," he answered. "But you will never do that again, at
least."

And then, finding her weight upon him, he stopped and lifted her in his
arms.

She covered her face with her hands, and he laughed above her head.

"It is a dangerous amusement," he said, "to laugh at Dinghra. There are
not many who dare. There is not one who goes unpunished."

He bore her back to her resting-place. He set her on her feet and drew
her hands away, holding her firmly by the wrists.

"Now tell me," he said "it is the last time I shall ever ask you--will
you marry me?"

"Never!" she cried.

"B