‘Do you suppose I’m going alone?’ I asked, and, in spite of everything, I could not help smiling as I put the question. I believe she really thought that the course in question might commend itself to me. ‘No,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t go alone. But I--I can’t cross that awful bridge.’ ‘Oh yes, you can,’ said I. ‘Come along,’ and I rose and held out my arms towards her. She looked at me, the tears still on her cheeks, a doubtful smile dawning on her lips. ‘My dear lord,’ she said very softly, and stood while I put my arms round her and lifted her till she lay easily. Then came what I think was the hardest thing of all to bear. She let her head fall on my shoulder and lay trustfully, I could almost say luxuriously, back in my arms; a little happy sigh of relief and peace came from her lips, her eyes closed, she was content. Well, I started; and I shall not record precisely what I thought as I started. What I ought to have thought about was picking my way over the bridge, and, if more matter for consideration were needed, I might have speculated on the best thing to do when we reached the outlet of the passage. Suppose, then, that I thought about what I ought to have thought about. ‘Keep still while we’re on the bridge,’ said I to Phroso. ‘It’s not over broad, you know.’ A little movement of the head, till it rested in yet greater seeming comfort, was Phroso’s only disobedience; for the rest she was absolutely still. It was fortunate; for to cross that bridge in the dark, carrying a lady, was not a job I cared much about. However we came to the other side; the walls of rock closed in again on either hand, and I felt the way begin to slope downwards under my feet. ‘Does it go pretty straight now?’ I asked. ‘Oh, yes, quite straight. You can’t miss it, my lord,’ said Phroso, and another little sigh of content followed the words. I had, I suppose, little enough to laugh at, but I did laugh very gently and silently, and I did not propose that Phroso should walk. ‘Are you tired?’ she said presently, just opening her eyes for an instant. ‘I could carry you for ever,’ I answered. Phroso smiled under lazy lids that closed again. In spite of Phroso’s assurance of its simple straightness the road had many twists and turns in it, and I had often to ask my way. Phroso gave me directions at once and without hesitation. Evidently she was thoroughly familiar with the track. When I remarked on this she said, ‘Oh, yes, I often used to come this way. It leads to such a pretty cave, you know.’ ‘Then it doesn’t come out at the same point as the way my friends took?’ ‘No, more than a mile away from that. We must be nearly there now. Are you tired, my lord?’ ‘Not a bit,’ said I, and Phroso accepted the answer without demur.