This, however, was not the end: it soon seemed scarcely the beginning of new distress, so far more deeply terrible to her with the intelligence by which it was followed. When the women demanded where he had heard this news, he answered, at the public-house; where he was told that all Salisbury was in an uproar; a rich outlandish Mounseer, in a post-chaise, having just come to the great inn, with the advertisement in his hand, pointing to the reward, and promising, in pretty good English, to double it, if the person should be found. Not another word could Juliet hear; not an instant, not a thought could she bestow to learn further what was past, or even to gather what was passing; the future, the dread of what was to come, took sole possession of her feelings and her faculties, and again to fly, more rapidly, more eagerly, more affrighted than ever, to fly, was her immediate act, rather than resolution. She accoutred herself, therefore, in all that was most homely to her new apparel; made a packet of what remained of her genuine attire; left half-a-guinea open upon a little table, to avoid again the accusation of being a swindler; and then, descending the ladder, and contriving to hide her bundle with her blue apron, as she passed, said that she was going to walk in the neighbouring fields, but that it was too late to take out the children; and, giving to each of them a penny, to buy cakes, she quitted the cottage. Without an instant, without even any powers for reflection, she darted across the fields, gained the road, and, within twenty minutes, arrived at an entrance into the New Forest; to which she had already learnt the way in her rambles with the children. CHAPTER LXXIII The terrified eagerness with which Juliet sought personal security, made her enter the New Forest as unmoved by its beauties, as unobservant of its prospects, as the 'Dull Incurious[3],' who pursue their course but to gain the place of their destination; unheeding all they meet on their way, deaf to the songsters of the wood, and blind to the pictures of 'God's Gallery[4],' the country. [Footnote 3: Thomson.] [Footnote 4: Twining.] Her steps had no guide but fear, which winged their flight; she sought no route but that which seemed most private. She flew past, across, away from the high road, without daring to raise her eyes, lest her sight should be blasted by the view of her dreaded pursuer. But speed which surpasses strength must necessarily be transitory. Her feet soon failed; she panted for breath, and was compelled to stop. Fearfully, then, she glanced her eyes around. Nothing met them but trees and verdure. Again she blessed Heaven, and ventured to seat herself upon the 'wild fantastic roots' of an aged beech-tree.