But she shrank away from the approaching ministration.
"No, Monsieur, I am better, really. But I must get home as quick as I can." She rose unsteadily.
The Englishman arose at the same time. The next moment Barbe sank back again, biting her lips to keep back a cry.
"Oh," she gasped, "I can't stand it! How can I get home?"
"You must let me see you home, Mademoiselle," said the officer, authority blending with palpable enthusiasm in his tones.
"You are so good, Monsieur," she murmured gratefully. "But I could not think of taking you away back so far, almost to the village. It will spoil your afternoon's sport."
The sympathy of the Englishman's face gave way to amusement, and he hastened to assure her of her mistake.
"Not at all, indeed, Mademoiselle. It will be quite as much my pleasure as my duty to see you safely home. Your misfortune—if not too serious—is my great good fortune!"
Thanking him with a look, Barbe arose weakly and took the proffered arm. At first the homeward journey was very slow; but as the afternoon deepened, and the miles gathered between the English commandant and Jean's little ship, the girl began to let herself recover. By this time she felt that there was no danger of her escort leaving her one minute before he was obliged to; and she knew that now, for this night, the ship was safe. At last, as they emerged from the woods into a high pasture-ground, behind the cottage where Barbe lived with her aunt and uncle, the Englishman threw off the gallant for a moment and became the wide-awake officer. He paused, took his bearings carefully, and scrutinized the trail behind him with searching eyes.
"I have not seen this road before, Mademoiselle," he marked, "and it interests me. It is not down on our map of the Annapolis district. Whither does it lead, may I ask?"