“My Betsy—my own dear Betsy!”
“Dick—Dick, you have saved me! Oh, I never doubted it, my Dick!—I knew you would be in time to save me.”
He had thrown the reins on his horse’s neck. But the animal was well trained: he was as faithful to the man who had just dismounted as though he were a highwayman who had left his saddle to plunder a coach. He only turned his head when the figures with the lantern came in sight beyond the curve in the road.
“Who are these—your friends or our enemy?” whispered Dick.
He had hold of her hand, and they were both gazing up the road.
“It can only be he,” she cried. “We were attacked by highwaymen. A horse was shot, and when the wretch was helping the postboys, I escaped from the coach and fled hither. I was hiding among the trees!”
“Stand back among the trees again—only for a moment—only for a moment,” he said in a low voice.
“You will not kill him!” said the girl piteously. “Dick, I could not bear to think of your killing him, wretch though he be.”
“Perhaps I may not. Stand back among the trees.”