“She was—” but the words seemed to come almost as a sob; and with instinctive delicacy the girl feared to press her guide with questions.
In silence they went down into the very deeps of the forest. Agnes scarcely saw the glimmerings of moonlight under the matted trees. She heard the noise of hidden beasts, the whirl of hidden waters. Then her guide felt the hand drag heavy in his own, and he bent over her.
“What is it? Why do you draw back?”
“Pixies are here. I am afraid.”
“There are no pixies here; yet if there were, they are not for dread. A Christian maid need only fear the wrath of sinful men. So say ‘Our Father’ and be brave. Yet you grow weary?”
“Yes.”
The strong frame bowed. The hermit lifted his prisoner in his mighty arms. How light the form! Something that sent a thrill all through him touched on his cheek,—the soft hair of a maid. His stride grew longer. Presently on his shoulder, close to his ear, was a sound. He halted at the break in the trees, where spread the moonlight. No room for doubt; utterly worn, even whilst he bore her, Agnes was in the child’s safe refuge,—sleep.
As Jerome moved, he also deemed himself a dreamer. He, Jerome of the Dragon’s Dale, was taking to his hut a woman! What matter if that temptress was a child, robed in white innocency and helplessness? She was not less the daughter of Eve by whom our fathers fell. Bear her to Witch Martha? But that unholy woman’s den was two good leagues away, and then what right had he to put this Agnes’s soul in eternal jeopardy by casting her into company with that familiar of Satan? Jerome felt the warm breath and the soft hair, and saw in the black shadows the form that trusted him.
“She imagined you were God!”
Then he said in his heart that this was one of Christ’s little ones, and that he must be strong in temptation. By the time he had reached the Dragon’s Dale the burden in his arms had grown heavy. Unhesitant he threaded the familiar path, and mounted the slope. Before the hut still glowed a few red embers. He took the maid inside, and laid her on the furze bed. She folded her hands, sighed prettily, but did not waken. Jerome stole from the hut, then fell on his knees to pray.