"Nay, sir," she cried anxiously, "you must indeed not be in such haste; you are still faint," and she caught his arm as he clutched at the table and recovered himself.
"Indeed, kind mistress, little ails me but weariness. I have travelled far and not fared over-sumptuously; but now I am near my journey's end, and I must not linger on the way."
"Indeed, sir," she cried, "you will not lose time by resting a little longer in the warmth here. 'Twould be poor speed to faint again in the woods!"
"Ay," he answered, "and 'tis not very like I should there meet with a second good Samaritan to succour me; but I trust I shall go forward bravely now; 'tis but the warm room hath made me somewhat qualmish."
But the young lady was clearly accustomed to have her own way, and quietly ignored his answer, as she continued—
"You can rest here undisturbed if you fear not ghosts, for no one lives in the house. I do but come here by day to attend to the dairy, so"—she concluded with a somewhat meaning tone—"you can shelter here, to-night, without any one asking whence you come, or whither you go."
Richard looked at her. How came it that this girl had guessed his secret at once when most people passed him, taking him but for a sturdy beggar? What made her suspect him of being a fugitive? Was her offer of shelter but careless good nature, or a heroic endeavour to save a hunted man? At any rate he had not fallen so low as to draw suspicion on a woman, and a young woman to boot, although she was plainly no nervous, fanciful, fine lady, but a bright, resolute, country girl, with good health and high spirits gleaming from every flash of her bright eyes, and every turn of her auburn head.
"Madam," he answered at length, "'twere a poor return for your kindness, did I not tell you that there are many who are no friends to me, and 'tis best I should depart, as I have come, lest I bring trouble on your hospitable house."
The girl turned on him quick with a little stamp, of her neat foot on the sanded floor.
"Sir, I know not, nor do I greatly care, who you may be, or what may be your reasons for keeping private; but 'tis very plain you are in trouble, and 'tis not the fashion of the house of Perrient to let folk go unsuccoured from our door."