"Betty go back, go into the house!" he said.
"No, no, don't let me leave 'ee, Allan, let me bide wi' 'ee for a time!"
He felt her tears on his hand, the hand she had taken and was holding tight pressed to her face.
"Let me bide wi' 'ee, Allan, Allan, don't 'ee send me away yet!"
She was sobbing unrestrainedly, crying aloud as a child does, and he feared lest any servant should come into the yard and hearing her, find them here together. Nor could he send her back into the house for others to see, all tears and shaken as she was. But stay here he could not and would not.
"Come," he said, he held her hand tightly, he took her through the little gateway into the garden. Here at least they would be safe and secure.
"A—a—cowardly maid I be," she moaned, "oh a coward I be, but I du feel safe wi' 'ee, Allan, don't—don't leave me! Oh sir, I—I du forget——"
"That does not matter now," he said, "Betty, try and compose yourself. I understand, you have been frightened, poor child, and upset, but—but that man will not trouble you again!"
"You doan't know he," she said quietly; "Allan if I—I did think that I must marry he, I would go and drownd myself in the pond, the pond where my stone maid be!"
"You are not going to drown yourself, Betty," he said. "You are going to live for many happy years!"