All the way she never stopped once,—it was nearly a mile. Her heart was in her throat, her breath coming in great choking pants; her knees were trembling as she stumbled up against the old Misrule gate, and clung to it blind and giddy for a moment.
There was a step on the footpath—it stopped at the gate. Some one came and peered at her and uttered a cry of surprise.
“Why, Nellie!”
“How—is—she?”
She gasped the words, swayed, and recovered herself.
“I’m just going in again,” Alan said. He slipped [246] ]his arm round her and steadied her—“I told you not to come again, Nellie.”
“[‘OH, LET ME COME!’ SHE IMPLORED.]”
“I couldn’t help it.”
He saw she couldn’t, and did not scold her.