Bess stood staring at her in mute vexation, then went on her knees beside her, turning Ursula upon her back, and chafing her hands. The old woman gave no single sign of consciousness, but lay there with her mouth open and her eyes shut, the pallor of her face contrasting with the red bricks in the floor. Bess gazed at her, hesitating. What should she do? Leave Ursula to Isaac’s anger, and take time and its precious fortune to herself? Solomon Grimshaw might be hanging about the cottage; every moment Bess thought to see a face looking at her through the open lattice. Desperate, she ran to the window and looked out. The garden seemed asleep in the sunshine; no one was to be seen. In the distance she fancied she could catch the sharp play of Solomon’s bill as he split the pine-boughs in his woodshed. With necessity for her inspiration, she turned back to Ursula, lifted her easily in her strong arms, carried her to the window, and lowered her unceremoniously by her skirts into the garden. Then she climbed out after her, picked Ursula up again, for she was nothing but a sack of skin and bone, and, passing round to the back of the garden, broke away into the woods that rose close about the cottage. Casting a half circle through the trees, breathing hard through her set teeth, and stopping often to listen, she drew towards Ursula’s cottage with the woman still unconscious in her arms. Interminable minutes seemed to pass before she came through the pine-thickets to the cottage, raised the latch of the door, and carried Ursula within. Bess laid her down on the settle before the fire, and, kneeling, saw that Ursula showed signs of a return to consciousness. The eyes opened, the hands groped out towards the girl’s face. Bess bent and kissed the old woman upon the mouth. “Mother, mother—” Ursula stared at her vacantly as though trying to remember what had happened. Bess gave her no moment to delay. She was fearful, and grew more fearful each instant of Dan’s return. “See, I have brought you back to your own cottage,” she said; “now—I must go. Remember, when Isaac comes back—you know nothing, you have not been near Dan’s house. They may think I broke free by myself.” Ursula nodded, sighed, and put her hands to her head. “I’ve saved ye, child,” she said. “God bless you for it, mother! I must go.” Bess kissed Ursula again, smoothed her gray hair for her, and, starting up, turned towards the door. She closed it softly after her, and, looking round warily, darted across the open stretch of grass-land for the farther woods. She would take the path for the Beacon Rock, strike across the heath, and reach the road for Rodenham. Her one hope of safety was with Jeffray. He would defend her against Isaac and against Dan.