But it was at least ten feet from the ground, and she did not fancy the idea of making a cripple of herself.
The door was suddenly flung open, and a laughing voice exclaimed, eagerly:
“Where are you, Floy?”
The very sound of a human voice was bliss to her after the long and fearful night.
She sprung up, sobbing with joy and relief, as Otho Maury entered the room with a lantern.
“So you have come for me! I—I didn’t guess it was near daylight yet,” she faltered.
“It isn’t, Floy—only a little past midnight.”
He came up to her with a jubilant air, and his eager, dark eyes burned on her face as he continued:
“But I couldn’t rest for thinking of you, Floy, all alone in this terrible place, exposed to Heaven knows what dangers! I—I—my heart ached for your loneliness, dear little one, and so I came to share your vigil.”
At the first moment her face had brightened with relief, but when he came up close she drew back shrinkingly, and at his words she took swift alarm.