"Oh, take me down. Do take me down."
"Yes, indeed, I will," said Andrew, with quiet assurance. "Let go of the branch."
She shuddered. The spell of the vertigo was yet upon her. Her arms tightened upon the bough.
"Do take me down," she pleaded childishly. "I'm frightened."
"My dear, you must loose your hold," said Andrew, steadily.
Then, with one arm about her, he reached up and one by one undid the clinging fingers, gathering them into his palm as he did so. With a force that seemed cruel, he pulled down the slender wrist and placed her hand upon his shoulder. Her face expressed the agony of dizziness. With blind instinct she put her other arm about his neck and clasped it close. He felt her form relax, and braced himself in time to sustain her dead weight as she fainted.
The descent of the ladder was easy enough. Andrew had carried many a bag of wheat up and down his steep granary stairs. The principle of balancing an inert woman is much the same. He carried her into the house and laid her down upon the broad home-made couch, covered with dark brown calico, that stood in the kitchen. Mrs. Morris had talked volubly during these proceedings, but only after he laid Judith down, did Andrew begin to hear what she was saying.
"She does look gashly!" said Mrs. Morris. "Whatever would I do if she was to be took! And this minute she looks fit for laying out."
"Goodness alive," said Andrew. "Can't you do anything to bring her to? Bathe her face, or something?"
Mrs. Morris flew for water and brought it, trembling. "I say, Andrew, can't you do it? I'm so shook—I never could bear to touch corpses, and—"