’Twas not more than twenty paces she walked towards the impoverished cottages of Whisper Cove: then turned, and came again to me. I wondered why she stood in this agony of indecision: but could not tell, nor can be blamed for the mystification, relentlessly as I blame myself.
“Dannie,” she moaned, looking up, “I can go nowhere!”
“You may go home, maid,” says I. “’Tis a queer thing if you may not go home.”
“’Tis an unkind thing.”
“Come!” I pleaded. “’Twill so very soon be dark on the road; and I’m not wantin’ you t’ wander in the dark.”
“I cannot,” says she. “I just cannot!”
“Judith,” I chided, “you may. ’Tis an unseemly thing in you to say.”
“But I cannot bear it, Dannie!”
“I would cry shame upon you, Judith,” I scolded, “were I not so careful of your feelings.”