In it she had heard the call of a man's being, seeking hers, and
by every hidden chord that had vibrated in answer she knew that he had
not called in vain. That was the knowledge that pierced her--the
knowledge that she was caught--against her will,--still wildly struggling
for freedom--but caught.
It had happened so suddenly, so amazingly. Yesterday she had been
free--only yesterday--Or stay! Perhaps even then the net had been about
her feet, and he had known it. How otherwise had he spoken so
intimately--dared so much?
She drew a long, deep breath, recalling his look, his touch, his voice.
Ah! Midsummer madness indeed! But she could not stay to face it. She must
go. The way was still open behind her. She would escape as she had come,
a fugitive from the force that pursued her so relentlessly. She would not
suffer herself to be made a captive. She would go.
Again she drew a long breath, but curiously it broke, as if a sharp spasm
had gripped her heart. She stood, struggling with herself. And then
suddenly she dropped upon her knees by the sill with her arms flung wide
and her head with its cloudy mass of hair bowed low.
"O God! O God!" she whispered convulsively.
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