“No—no—no. Not to Tim—not back to Tim. I remember. I fell running away from ’e. You sinned a gert sin to come arter me when I bade ’e in Christ’s name to let me abide. Help me now—now ’fore ’tis to late. ’Tis the least you can do an’ theer’s a man’s life hanging to it for all I know. Say nothin’; ax nothin’; help me—help me quick to go to un.” “To whom, Sarah? You’re dreaming, lovey. Who should I take you to—your father? But I’m here—Timothy—an’ thank God I was. What frightened you so? Like a moonbeam you went and nearly broke your neck and my heart together—‘pon my honour you did.” “Help me,” she said. “Give over talkin’, for it ban’t the time. You’ll know how ’twas some day. I’ve prayed solemn as you should know. Let me go down-along quick—quicker’n lightning—or it may be too late. Wheer’s my basket gone? I had a li’l basket. An’ allus b’lieve I loved ’e—b’lieve it to the end of the world.” “As if I ever doubted it! Now let me carry you right home, my little wounded bird. The sooner the better.” “No, I tell ’e. Help me to my feet—now this instant minute, if you doan’t want me to go mad! Theer’s things hid—terrible things! I must go. He won’t wait for me; he swore it. Down to the gert beech he bides—Jan—Jan Aggett! Oh, help me, my own love; help me, Tim, for my body’s weak an’ I can’t rise up without ’e.” “To him—help you to him!” “I mean it. I can’t tell you nothin’. For the love of the Lard, doan’t talk no more. Oh, if I thwart un!” She struggled desperately, like a trapped animal that sees dog or man approaching; and he helped her to stand, though now he scarcely knew what he did. Then the pang of a dislocated bone in her foot pierced the girl and she cried aloud and sank back breathless and faint with pain. “I can’t go to un, so you must. Hasten, hasten, if ever you loved me, an’ mend the gert wrong you’ve done by bringing me to this. Speed down to the beech at the corner o’ the woods an’ tell Jan Aggett what have fallen out. Never mind me; my foot ban’t no account; but Jan—him—tell un I’m here against my will. Shout aloud through the peace o’ the night as you’m coming to un from me.” Still he hesitated until her voice rose in a high-pitched shriek of impatience and she tore her hair and beat her breast. Then he departed and even ran as she screamed to him to go faster. Once fairly started, Timothy made the best of his way to Postbridge for a doctor and man’s aid to carry Sarah to her home. At the dripping well beside the stile he stopped a moment and shouted his rival’s name till the woods echoed; but no answer came and he ran on, gasping, to the village.