She stood at gaze, holding her hair back with one hand.
"I thought you might be asleep and I rode over to warn you. It means that the French are coming."
Nance remained silent. Roused out of sleep to stare at that great yellow eye out yonder, her consciousness was confused for the moment, nor did the man's presence below her window help her toward tranquillity. The things that her father had told her concerning him were as vivid as the burning beacon. She felt numb and inarticulate, constrained to speak yet knowing not what to say.
"It was good of you to think of us."
Her voice seemed to come from a distance.
"I could not help coming."
"Oh."
"I have to join my men. There is room in one of our wagons for you and your father. I have an hour to spare. I can take you to Rush Heath."
A strange and obstinate contrariness seized her. She had a sense of a dull and undeserved pain at the heart.
"Father will not trouble——"