The wind blew sharply against her, and the
pavement was cold to her slippered feet.
"Carter," she called again and again--"Carter, is it you?"
At the gate her scant supply of courage failed. Some one was in the
buggy, half lying, half sitting, with his face turned from her. She
looked back to the light in the cabin, where the servants would hear
if she called. Then the thought of any one else seeing Carter as she
had seen him before drove the fear back, and she resolutely opened the
gate and went forward.
At her first touch Carter started up wildly and pushed her from him.
"You said you wouldn't give me up; you promised," he said.
"I know it, Carter. I'll help you, dear. Don't be so afraid! Nobody
shall see you. Put your arm on my shoulder--there! Step down a little
farther!"
With all her slight strength she supported and helped him, the keen
wind blowing her long, thin dress about them both, and the lace
falling back from her arms, leaving them bare to the elbow.
Half-way up the walk he broke away from her and cried out: "I'll have
to go away. It's dangerous for me to stay here an hour."
"Yes, Carter dear, I know. The doctor says it's the climate. We are
going early in the morning. Everything's packed. See how cold I am
getting out here! You'll come in with me now, won't you?"
Coaxing and helping him, she at last succeeded in getting him to bed.
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