“How a foot, too light to bruise a daisy, could tread so heavy a measure, passes my comprehension.”
A little flush, as when a spoonful of red wine is dropped into a glass of milk, came to her cheek and delicate ear.
“I felt it going,” she whispered; “and screamed out. Did you save me? And are you the new squire of ‘Delsrop’? Oh, sir! I am ashamed.”
She broke off abruptly, and, blushing a more vivid pink, rose to a sitting posture, and put back the hair from her face in a bewildered manner.
“I hardly know what I say or do,” she said. “I was so frightened; and I have lost my saltier. My horse is somewhere outside. Will you help me to it?”
“You are not in a state to ride. Wait and rest, and I will escort you whither you wish by and by.”
“No; I must go now. My brother will be home from cock-fight and raging for his supper. It was wrong of me to venture in, and I have lost my saltier, and nearly my life. Will you have search made for it in the well? It is gold, and the bréviaire is shaped prettily like a ridicule.”
“It shall be found, if possible. If you must go, I will ride with you.”
“No, no.”
“Yes, indeed. And whither may I squire you, madam?”