Two or three times the force of the river was so great that she felt as if she must yield to it; but she stood firm and then felt a fresh chill, for the man snarled out an oath, and the lapping and splashing sound made her turn and wade a little farther, for she felt that her enemy had made her out, and was wading in. But in another moment a savage ejaculation of pain made the truth known, for Sturgess was kneeling down and bathing the wound he had received. She grasped it all plainly enough now, for from time to time he uttered a low groan, and then rose up and staggered away over the stones, while her heart leaped for joy, as she knew that he was growing weak and faint from exertion. From this moment everything became plain to her--made known in the darkness by the sounds. She could see nothing, but she knew as well as if she had been by his side that the man was painfully staggering up the stony slope along by the river edge, as if making for the mine. But she dared not move, only try to stand firm against the pressure of the water, and wait till the last sound had reached her ear. Then, and then only, did she stir, but only to wade upward a little into shallower water, where the pressure was not so great. For the river was her protector, and she knew that Sturgess might come back. A full hour must have passed before, stiff and chilled, she waded slowly out, and crept up the path to the cottage, the water streaming from her as she walked, till she reached the porch, crept in trembling and secured the door, and then did not rest till she had reached her own room to throw herself upon her knees in thankfulness for her escape. But there was no rest that night. Just at daybreak she went down to find that Martha still slept, and shuddering, lest the events of the night should be known, she went into her father's chamber and replaced the gun in its old corner; looked out in the cold grey morning, and saw that it was possible for the absent pane of glass to be attributed to the work of the wind blowing about a loosened casement. Lastly, there was something else for which she sought in the cold grey light of morning--traces of the gun-shot wound. There were none visible. If there had been, a sufficiency of rain had fallen to wash all away, and leaving the window ajar, Dinah was in the act of turning back, pondering upon her position and shrinking from telling her father more than ever. She determined that Martha must know nothing, when she caught a glimpse of her pale, troubled face in the glass, and then uttered a faint cry of horror, for her light dress was horribly stained about the breast and shoulder, showing plainly that Sturgess must have received a severe wound, whose traces had been transferred to her when he had seized her in his arms.