CHAPTER XIX
A WHISTLING youth who lumbered up the path saved Stellamaris. There was nothing about him suggestive of the dragon-slaying and princess-rescuing hero of the fairy-tale, nor did he at any time thereafter dream that he had played the part of one; but at the sight of him the she-dragon fled, her ultimate purpose unfulfilled. Stella sank quivering on the bench. The knight-errant touched his cloth cap, and, unaccustomed to the company of princesses, lounged in awkward self-consciousness a few yards away, with his hands in his pockets and pretended to admire the view. Stella, aware of deliverance from physical danger, drank in the unutterable comfort of his presence. After a while he turned and was moving off, when a cry from her checked him.
“Please don't go!”
He advanced a step or two. “Is anything the matter, miss?”
She reflected for a moment. “I came over rather faint,” she said. “I don't know whether I can get down to the house alone.” She was too proud to confess to fear of the evil woman. .
The youth offered help. He could easily carry her home. To have carried the mysterious lady of the Channel House would make him the envy of the village. Such aid, however, she declined.
“Shall I tell them at the house, miss?”
She sprang to unsteady feet.