Suddenly an exclamation from Judith: “Jamie! Jamie!”
Something was visible in the darkness, something whitish in the hedge. In another moment it came bounding up.
“Ju! oh, Ju! I ran away!”
“You did well,” she said. “Now I am happy. You are saved.”
Coppinger looked impatiently round and saw by the feeble light that the boy had come close to him, and that he was wrapped up in a blanket.
“He has nothing on him,” said Judith. “Oh, poor Jamie!”
She had revived; she was almost herself again. She held herself more firmly in the saddle and did not lean so heavily on Coppinger’s hand.
Coppinger was vexed at the appearance of the boy, Jamie; he would fain have paced along in silence by the side of Judith. If she could not speak it mattered not so long as he held her. But that this fool should spring out of the darkness and join company with him and her, and at once awake her interest and loosen her tongue, irritated him. But as she was able to speak he would address her, and not allow her to talk over his head with Jamie.
“How have you been hurt?” he asked. “Why have you tied that bandage about your head?”
“I have been cut by a stone.”