"It's all right," he said, "no one can find us here. We are a long way from where I first came across you."
She closed her eyes, and seemed to be trying to do as he directed, for her nostrils dilated as if in an effort to breathe deeply. He wished she would speak. He dreaded that her mind might be unhinged.
"When you are well enough to walk," he said, "we shall go to Sandlewood. We'll have some tea or dinner there, and then you can get back to 'The Fastness' after dark and go straight to bed. That will be excellent, and nobody will be any the wiser."
Patiently he waited while her breathing became by degrees more normal, and faint traces of returning colour began to fleck her cheeks. He still held her hand, and now and again he would press it gently as an earnest of his sympathy. It seemed a long and anxious wait, and as his will and desire for her return to strength grew more intense, he hoped that she was profiting from his silent co-operation with her struggle for recovery.
Suddenly her eyes opened, and she looked anxiously round.
"It's all right," he repeated, "you are not where you were when I first found you. We have moved since then."
"Where are the others?" she gasped, the terrified look returning to her eyes.
"They went back to the house over an hour ago," he replied.
"Is he dead? Did I kill him?" she demanded defiantly.
"Dead? No! He's not even badly wounded," he answered.