"I do not feel so sure of that."
Neither did Esther as she looked about her, and saw how quickly twilight had fallen since the sun had gone.
"I hardly like to let you go, my child, by yourself only, over the moor. You could so easily miss your way, and get into the river, or fall over a boulder and injure yourself. Will you come into my house and rest; and after you have had some tea—"
"Oh, thank you, no," cried Esther, overcome with shyness at the thought of giving so much trouble. "I am sure I shall get back all right."
"Will you not do it to oblige me?" And the lady, who was very pretty and graceful and charming, spoke so coaxingly, so prettily, Esther could not refuse her.
"I—I—but it would make me later," she began.
"Ah, but I was going to say, Anne is going to Dorsham presently, and he shall conduct you safely home."
"Who?" breathed Esther, puzzled beyond politeness.
"Anne. He—well, he is not exactly my servant—he is my friend and factotum; he and his wife live in the cottage at the back," explained the little lady. "His wife is ill, unfortunately, and he is going to get some mustard for poultices for us to apply, and he will see you home."
"Oh, thank you," stammered Esther, interested but uneasy. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable about Cousin Charlotte, and the anxiety she might be causing her; but she really did shrink from the long walk home in the gathering darkness, and, too, she did not know how to refuse the kind stranger's request. So she stepped in at the open gate, and put her hand in the one outstretched to welcome her.