But she was glad of his hold none the less, and he seemed to know it, for he kept her hand firmly clasped.
"You must let me see you back," he said. "Where are you staying?"
"At Mrs. Rickett's," she told him. "The village smithy, you know."
"I know," he said. "Down at Little Shale, you mean. You've come some way, haven't you?"
"It was such a lovely night," she said, "and Columbus wanted a walk. I got led on, I didn't know I was likely to meet anyone."
"It's the short cut to High Shale," he said. "There is always the chance of meeting these fellows along here. You'd be safer going the other way."
"But I like the furze bushes and the nightingale," she said regretfully, "and the exquisite wildness of it. It is not nearly so nice the other way."
He laughed. "No, but it's safer. Come this way as much as you like in the morning, but go the other way at night!"
He turned with the words, and began to lead her down the path. She went with him as one who responds instinctively to a power unquestioned. The magic of the night was closing about her again. She heard the voice of the nightingale thrilling through the silence.
"This is the most wonderful place I have ever seen," she said at last in a tone of awe.