Lying thus, she presently heard once more the tread of a horse's feet, and counted each footfall mechanically. They grew fainter and fainter, till at last the forest silence swallowed them, and a great solitude seemed to wrap her round.
Minutes passed. She did not stir. Her strength had gone utterly from her. Finally there came the sound of a quiet footfall.
Close to her it came, and stopped.
"Why, Chirpy!" a quiet voice said.
She tried to move, but could not. She was as one paralysed. She could not so much as utter a word.
He knelt down beside her and raised her to a sitting posture, so that she leaned against him. Holding her so, he gently rubbed her cheek.
"Poor little Chirpy!" he said. "It's all right!"
At sound of the pity and the tenderness of his voice, something seemed to break within her, the awful constriction passed. She hid her face upon his arm, and burst into a wild agony of weeping.
He laid his hand upon her head, and kept it there for a while; then as her sobbing grew more and more violent, he bent over her.
"Don't cry so, child, for Heaven's sake!" he said earnestly. "It's all right, dear; all right. You are perfectly safe!"