Her heart was throbbing with the pity she always felt for bruised and baited creatures . On and on she went heedlessly , intent only on walking away her pain , over gray , brooding fields and winding slopes , and along the skirts of ruinous , dusky pine woods , curtained with fine spun purple gloom . Her dress brushed against the brittle grasses and sere ferns , and the moist night wind , loosed from wild places far away , blew her hair about her face . At last she came to a little rustic gate , leading into a shadowy wood-lane . The gate was bound with willow withes , and , as Sara fumbled vainly at them with her chilled hands , a man 's firm step came up behind her , and Lige Baxter 's hand closed over her 's . `` Oh , Lige ! '' she said , with something like a sob . He opened the gate and drew her through . She left her hand in his , as they walked through the lane where lissome boughs of young saplings flicked against their heads , and the air was wildly sweet with the woodsy odors . `` It 's a long while since I 've seen you , Lige , '' Sara said at last . Lige looked wistfully down at her through the gloom . `` Yes , it seems very long to me , Sara . But I did n't think you 'd care to see me , after what you said last spring . And you know things have been going against me . People have said hard things . I 've been unfortunate , Sara , and may be too easy-going , but I 've been honest . Do n't believe folks if they tell you I was n't . '' `` Indeed , I never did -- not for a minute ! '' fired Sara . `` I 'm glad of that .
I 'm going away , later XXXXX .
against along from into of on over through to with