“Maurice,” said Una, “let us go home across the fields. Don’t let us go by the road. I’m afraid of meeting those men again. They will be coming after us.”
“Nonsense, Una,” said the Comtesse, “we have climbed walls enough to-night; we have lain in ditches enough. For my part, if there is a road I shall go along it. Come, Maurice.”
She walked quickly on, and Maurice, puzzled and uncomfortable, followed her. Then Neal laid his hand on Una’s arm.
“This way,” he said. “I will take you home by the fields.”
He sprang across the ditch and stretched out his hand to the girl. Without a word she took it and followed him. They walked in silence over the rough ground. They crossed a wall, and then another, and each time Neal thrilled at the touch of her hand as he turned to help her.
“You were very brave, Neal,” she said.
“It’s not much to be brave for you, Una. Oh, I wish I could have saved you.”
He had her hand in his again, and this time it seemed as if it lingered in his clasp.
“Una,” he said. “Una.”
But her face was turned away from him, and she made no answer. The tone of his voice set her pulses beating with a strong excitement, so that she could not look at him or speak. He was silent again. They reached the high wall which bounded the demesne of Dunseveric House. Once more, as they climbed, her hand was in his.