He lay dumb for a while; then said he: ‘You shall not blame me. It is not here—not in the house. I know not where it is. They are seeking it now. He came here with two archers. He snarled like a fox to find me.’
‘Who was this, Baptist? Was it Lethington?’
‘Lethington. He believed it was here. He forced that knowledge from his wife——’
She said, ‘Fleming too?’
‘——I fought. They tried to make me tell them where I had hid it. They lifted and threw me. I am hurt—cannot move. Oh, they will have it now.’
‘Rest, my dear, rest. Think no more of it. They have all but me.’ Out of the heart of this poor nameless youth she was to learn good love; but to learn it only to know its impossibility. Not for her now, not for her! Not so could she ever have loved; no! but she could be kind. She stooped her head over him and breathed softly through the dark—‘and I, Baptist, am yours if you will.’
He sighed. ‘Oh, that it were possible! That night when you looked back—that night——you let me take——remember you of that?’
She knew his thought and all his heart. Her own were at leagues of distance: but she could not now refuse him kindness. She stooped her head lower towards his, and whispered, ‘Baptist, can you hear me?’
‘Yes, yes.’