She shivered in his arms, and murmured, feebly. "How cold it is!"
"Madam!" cried Marryott. "This is but a moment's faintness! It will pass! Call up your energies, I pray! I dare not delay. Already the men are waiting for us in the court below. We must to horse!"
"To my grave, 'twould be!" she answered, drowsily. Then a spasm of pain distorted her face. She became more heavy in Marryott's grasp.
"God's light! What am I to do?" he muttered. "Mistress, shake off this lethargy! Come to the window; the air will revive you!"
He moved to the open casement, bearing her in his arms. He feared to place her on the window-seat, lest the little animation she retained might pass from her.
She shuddered in the blast of wind.
"The cold kills me!" she said, huskily. "The snow hath a sting like needle-points!"
"Yet your face is warm!" He had placed his cheek against her forehead to ascertain this.
"It burns while my body freezes!" she replied.
"But your hands are not cold!" A tight clasp had made the discovery.