Her hand, which had been holding Darby's sleeve, slipped away from it, and with a little cry she fell against the window ledge and so to the floor.
Darby hardly realised for a moment that she had fainted. When she did not move he stooped and lifted her quickly, his heart beating fast with fear.
"Why, Deb!" he cried. "What is't? Heaven's mercy! She hath swooned. Nay, then, not quite; there, then, open thine eyes again. Thou hast been forewearied, an' with reason. Art thyself now?" as his sister looked up and strove to rise.
"Whatever came over thee, sweet? Try not to walk. I will lift thee to the bed an' call Dame Blossom. Marry! what queer things women be."
"Ay! truly," she answered, faintly, steadying herself against him. "Ay! vastly queer. Nay, I will not go to the bed, but will sit in your chair."
"Thou art white as linen," anxiously. "May I leave thee to call the Dame? I fear me lest thou go off again."
"Fear naught o' that," said Deb, with a little curl of her lips. "An' call Mistress Blossom an' thou wilt, but 'tis nothing; there—dear heart, I will be well anon. Hast not some jaunt for to-night? I would not keep thee, Darby."
"'Tis naught but the players' meeting-night at The Mermaid. It hath no great charm for me, and I will cry it off on thy account."
"That thou wilt not," she said, with spirit, a bit of pink coming to her face with the effort. "I can trust thee, an' thou must go. 'Twill ne'er do to have one an' another say,—'Now, where be Darby Thornbury?' There might be some suspicions fly about an' they met thee not."
"Thou hast a wise head. 'Twould not do,—and I have a game o' bluff to carry on that thou hast started. Thou little heroine!" kissing her hand. "What pluck thou did'st have! What cool pluck. Egad!" ruefully, "I almost wish thou had'st not had so much. 'Twas a desperate game, and I pray the saints make me equal to the finish."