‘My shoulders should convince you,’ she said suddenly and plaintively. ‘I thought I felt a wild beast at them.’
He put his hands to his head.
‘Have I done so foul a thing? I took you for a ghost. Alack, what savage must you think me!’ He held out his arms, entreating: ‘I prithee let me raise thee’—but she would not accept his help, and got to her feet unaided. She trembled a little, leaning against the tree, and held one hand to her bosom. He could see her now quite clearly—a young girl, something less than his own age.
‘O!’ she said: ‘Methinks I shall faint!’
He was ill with remorse. In the half light her feminine frailty was even exaggerated to him. She seemed a thing of china a rough touch might have broken, and he had treated her with barbarous violence.
‘What have I done!’ he cried. ‘Will you ever forgive me!’
He darted forward, and, though she resisted weakly, put an arm about her.
‘Nay, you will fall else,’ he said.
Still she struggled, panting to free herself.
‘Nay!’ he pleaded.