Here he loosed her arm, and sprang over into the road.
“Give me your hands,” he cried, and she obeyed, and then as he reached over, she climbed the stile, stepping on to the top rail at last.
“Jump,” he said, sharply; and she obeyed, but slipped as she alighted, one foot gliding over the muddy surface, and in spite of his strong grasp upon her hands, she fell sideways, and uttered a sharp cry.
“No hysterical nonsense, now, girl,” he cried. “Get up!”
“I—I can’t, Pierce. Oh, pray, don’t be so cruel to me, please.”
“Get up!” he cried, more sternly.
“My ankle’s twisted under me,” she said, faintly. “I—I—!”
A piteous sigh ended her speech, and she sank nerveless nearly to the level, but a sudden snatch on his part saved her from falling prone.
Then bending down, he raised her, quite insensible, in his arms, drew her arm over his shoulders, and strode on again, the passionate rage and indignation in his breast nerving him so that she seemed to possess no weight at all.
For another agony had come upon him, just when life seemed to have suddenly become unbearable, and there were moments when it appeared to be impossible that the bright girl who had for years past been to him as his own child could have behaved in so treacherous, so weak and disgraceful a way as to have listened to the addresses of the young scoundrel who seemed to have blasted his life.