“Oh, George!” she cried, with a gasp of relief, as he raised her from the ground.
She hung on his arm, quite still, except for a convulsive trembling from time to time, for a few minutes, until her shaken sense began to return; then she tried to stand alone.
“I am better now, thank you, George. But, oh, I was so frightened!”
“Lie still in my arms, my darling,” said he, his voice shaking.
He drew her more closely to him, and she could feel the quick beating of his heart against hers.
“Let me go, George; I am quite well now. You frighten me too!” she said, piteously, imploringly, trying to unlock his hands with her slender fingers.
He held her more closely at once.
“I frighten you, Annie! I would not hurt a hair of your beautiful head for the world. Oh, my darling, my darling, tell me you are better! Look up at me, Annie.”
She raised her eyes timidly to his face, then dropped them again, as his passionate gaze met hers.
“I am much better. Let me go, George, please. Won’t you do what I ask you? I am tired; I want to go in—to bed. Oh, George, if you are really sorry for me, let me go in, or I shall die out here in the cold!”