She saved him the trouble by staggering in a frightened way to her feet, and adjusting her bonnet strings, and then by making an effort to step into the outer air. It was beyond her strength, however, and she sank back on to the bench from which she had before risen, once more crying violently.
Again John was at his wits' ends; but as his remedy had previously been successful, there was nothing better to do, he thought, than to replenish the tumbler.
"You had better drink a little of this," said he, once more by her side.
The damsel obeyed.
"And then, when you are able to walk, I will—You don't live far from here, I suppose?" continued John, as he stood watching her.
By this time the restorative had produced its effect, and the rustic beauty's colour had partially returned to her cheeks.
"I live at High Beech Farm," said she; "and it is time I was there. My father and mother went home long ago, and—oh, dear!"
She was once more on her feet, and anxiously looking out at the darkening landscape.
"It is a fine evening," said John; "and I'll—yes, if you will accept my help, I'll walk home with you. You are not well enough to be by yourself. You might have another fit on the road, you know. You must take my arm, and I'll see you safe, miss."
