“Joan! Joan!” cried Cosmo, darting to her side; “what is it, Joan?”
“Nothing; only a little faintness. I have walked a long way and am getting tired.”
“What a brute I am!” said Cosmo, “to let you walk! I will carry you again.”
“Indeed you will not!” she answered, moving a little from him.
“Do you think you could ride on a man’s saddle?”
“I think so. I could well enough if I were not tired. But let me be quiet a little.”
They were very near the place where Cosmo’s horse must be waiting him. He ran to take him and send the groom home with a message.
To Joan it was a terrible moment. Had she, most frightful of thoughts! been acting on a holy faith that yet had no foundation? She had come to a man who asked her whether she would not have married his friend! She had taken so much for understood that had not been understood!
When Joan sat down Agnes stopped—a good way off: till the moment of service arrived she would be nothing. Several times she started to run to her, for she feared something had gone wrong, but checked herself lest she should cause more mischief by interfering. When she saw her sink sideways on the dyke, she did run, but seeing Cosmo hurrying back to her, stopped again.
Before Cosmo reached her Joan had sat up. The same faith, or perhaps rather hope, which had taken shape in her dreams, now woke to meet the necessity of the hour. She rose as Cosmo came near, saying she felt better now, and let him put her on the horse.